Vampire's Kiss
by Lady Reva
Summary: A stranger arrives to the Sanctuary who is more than just familiar with Vicente. But her agenda is not quite her own, and not quite so innocent. Finally updated! Sorry for the very very very long wait.
1. Prologue

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Summary**: A stranger arrives to the Sanctuary who is more than just familiar with Vicente. But her agenda is not quite her own, and not quite so innocent.

**Author's Note**: I'm going to take a certain amount of license not only with character backgrounds – of which there is precious little to go around – and with the story lines as found in the game. Also this is my first attempt at an Oblivion FanFic. Please don't shoot me for any of that. *Puppy Eyes*

The italics at the beginning of each chapter are my translation of the song "Irgendwas Bleibt" from the German band Silbermond. All credit for that belongs to them, only the fact that the words are in English is my doing.

**Prologue**

_Tell me that this place here is safe,_

_and that everything good stands still here._

Lovingly, Tessa ran a hand over the smooth black door leading into the Sanctuary. The words, harshly whispered by the door, still lingered in her ears: _What... is the color of the Night?_ A smile curled her lips. It had been too long since she last heard these very same words. Far too long. And yet the rasping voice was a welcomed one, for it meant she was home.

"Sanguine, my brother." She finally answered, followed by the whispered command of a concealment spell. It had been too long, and she feared that none would remember her. She couldn't imagine that any of her former Sanctuary Mates would have survived the past ten years. No... that wasn't entirely true. There is one who would, but she didn't know if he still was here.

Neither her cloak swirling around her, nor her boots made a single noise as she slipped through the door.

At this time of night, only the dark guardian lumbered through the shadowed common room, paying the door no heed. The warding spell which questioned the new arrivals prevented any unwelcomed guests from passing. Everything still looked the same. As if she had left but yesterday. With just those memories guiding her, she let her feet carry her across the room to the passageway on the other side, and down the long stairs, past several other doors huddled together on the landings to that part of the Sanctuary which was darkest. Three doors hid in the darkness. She stopped directly in front of the one at the very end of the hall.

Faint sounds of someone still up and about on the other side of midnight, carried to her ears in the silence. But would it be _him_? Tessa hesitated a long time, before her hand finally rose to the polished wooden surface of the door. It, like the rest of the Sanctuary, was over two hundred years old, and yet showed no sign of wear or tear or decay. It wasn't so much that it had been replaced or well tended, but rather well preserved through Magicka. The faint hum of its life essence humming underneath her well attuned fingers. To her senses, it was a consistently soft background hum which had always lulled her to sleep almost instantly. The beat of the warding and preserving magicka was the heartbeat of her home.

She had missed it.

The faintly echoing sound of foot steps drawing closer caused her to withdraw deeper into the shadows of the awning of one of the closed doors, willing her breath and heartbeat to pass unnoticed. With eyes accustomed to the shadows, she watched as an Argonian wearily threaded up to the door and knocked without hesitation. A growled "Come in" answered from the other side.

Her heart missed a beat.

She knew the voice. _He_ was still here. With a smile, she settled down to wait for the Argonian to complete her business. Only once her steps had once again faded up the stairs, did Tessa finally step up to the door again. This time she did not just lay her fingers onto the smooth wood. Softly, she rasped her knuckles against the wood, finally allowing her chameleon spell to drop.

"What is it now?" The irritated voice asked from beyond. Tessa didn't answer, but quickly opened the door, and slipped through. A black figure with a black hood sat on the chair in front of the desk, leaning back in a posture of relaxation, looking at the door with a crinkle of mild irritation around the blood red eyes. No muscle was tense and the hand which still held the quill seemed to float on the air without apparent effort from its holder. Knowing Vicente, the relaxed posture presented was anything but relaxed. His off hand was invisible to her, and was quite probably fingering the blade normally hanging at his side. He was as deadly with a dagger in his left hand as were it in his right hand. But even should he be unarmed, it did not in the least make him less dangerous.

"What a warm welcome." She accused with a smile touching the corners of her lips. It was the only part of her visible underneath her hood and cloak, and she wondered if her voice alone would be enough for him to recognize her. Her hand moving slowly, movements measured, she brought it up to her head, quietly slipping the hood back over her head to rest down her back, revealing her features. High cheekbones stood out underneath liquid seeming and candlelight dancing brown eyes. The candlelight picked out echoes of amber in the expressionless depths. Her lips bore signs of recent, and repeated gnawing, as from a nervous tick and her face was all together too pale. The black hair, only a shade or two away from mundane, was pulled back into a long braid which coiled over her shoulder to rest against her chest, a single yellow ribbon tied the thick length together, braided part ways up into the matte looking black hair.

The red eyes examining her glinted dangerously as she revealed her features. The intense stare made her lips quirk up into an embarrassed smile.

"Vee, I..." she began, her voice catching in the back of her throat. His silence was beginning to worry her. "I guess," she tried again, "I'm somewhat late."

"Late?" He finally spoke, his tone slipping into a low growl. "Late?" He repeated a bit louder, rising to his feet, towering over her by half a head. "_You_," he snarled, his finger pointing at her, and with each word, he took a step closer to her. "_you_ are a fifty-three years late!" With his last word, he stood directly in front of her, his hand reaching up for her throat, pinning her against the door.

She didn't struggle.

"fif..." she tried to speak, but his hand squeezed harder, stealing her breath.

"_Silence!_" He snarled at her, pushing her harder into the door. She closed her eyes in dread. It seemed, she would first have to gain absolution from his bestial side, before she could even hope to reason with his rational side.

Vicente pressed his body into hers, firmly trapping her between the smooth, wooden door and the cold, hard body of the Vampire – a new take on the old adage: between a rock and a hard place, she thought wryly. Then he shifted his cool hand away from her throat, before she finally felt the twin needles of pain lancing into her throat. Pain so intense it was pleasure.

Her last thought before unconsciousness finally claimed her was: _I can't have been gone _that_ long._

~V~

Vicente was still staring at the woman he held cradle in his arms when the knock on his office door came the next morning. Her breathing had finally evened out as her body struggled to compensate the blood loss.

He had lost control.

He closed his eyes and recollected his last memory of her.

"_Hey Vee! I'll be going now." Tessa called out from the common room. With a smile he stood from his space at the workbench in the library, and headed over to her. She was dressed in normal traveling clothes – not meaning to stand out in a crowd as a sore, but waiting until she was ready to strike to don her shrouded armor. _

"_Careful Tes." He answered with a full smile, his pointed canines showing as she came up to him, quietly slipping her arms around him for a moment. He returned the gesture, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead and then she was gone with a twinkle of amber in her brown eyes. _

He hadn't realized that it would be the last time he would see her, but he hadn't given up hope, for several days later the Listener himself had arrived with a rather cryptic message from the Night Mother and a rather startling change of the statue of the Lucky Old Lady. _She who willingly suffered the vampire's kiss, will return when I am ready to release her, _was the message given to him. As for the statue, it seemed a figure, prostrating itself at the feet of the statue, face hidden by a hood had been added. It was made of the same stone as the statue itself, puzzling the Listener and the population of Bravil in equal measures. Deep down in his heart, Vicente believed that the one in question had to be Tessa. Even as the rational in his mind told him it was impossible. This hope had allowed him to face the news with his composure intact.

A composure he had lost the night before when, after 53 years, she finally returned to him.

The knock on his office door was repeated, and with a sigh, he stood, carefully placing Tessa on a low couch standing to one side of his office. Without a word he opened the door a slit, revealing the black clad figure of Lucien Lachance.

"I was told you hadn't gone to bed yet." Lucien spoke into the silence. "What happened?" He added quietly, when he saw the seemingly bloodshot eyes – if such a thing was possible for the red tinted vampire eyes. Running a weary hand over his face, Vicente beckoned Lucien into the room, softly closing the door behind his Speaker.

The Imperial looked around, his eyes quickly spotting the woman draped across the low sofa. "Who is she?"

"She..." Vicente tried to speak, but ended up just waving the question away with a hand, his mouth working at finding words just out of his reach. He was not ready to speak. Turning away from Lucien, he walked over to Tessa's side, going down on one knee to better hear her now even but quiet breath and still struggling heart. He rested one hand on her forehead, as if to ensure himself that she truly was alive, and not a ghost.

On soft feet, Lucien walked up to him, resting his own hand on the vampire's shoulder.

"Vicente?" The gentle voice broke into the vampire's thought.

"She returned." He finally whispered with a soft shake of his head, as if it perplexed him. He had... hoped. For fifty-three long years. He had longed. The countless years fading into memory. He had despaired. After fifty years, he had promised himself, that in ten years, he would convince his heart that she was dead, her natural life span coming to its end. That the figure at the foot of the Lucky Lady could not be his Tessa, the message a hoax. He would have had seven more years to go, and yet here she lay, as young and healthy as the day she left for her last mission. He examined her features, comparing them to that image he carried in his mind. No, not as young. The features were a bit more angular than before. Creases had formed around her eyes – eyes which loved to laugh. Same as around the mouth. In effect, when he looked closely, it seemed she had aged but ten years. Running one hand along the arm closest to him, he could feel the toned muscles underneath supple skin - just has he had expected to find.

Lucien allowed the silence to stretch on. The vampire would know when he was ready to speak. "I recruited her into the brotherhood. Fifty-five years ago." Finally came the whispered words. "She was... different from the others."

"Tell me." The words were spoken not as a superior, but as a friend, softly, calmly. Lucien had never seen Vicente's composure this broken. Angry, yes. Raging mad, without a doubt. But sad and melancholic and almost despairing?

~V~

Clouds. She was floating on clouds a cool breeze running over her forehead to cool her down. With the realization of this vague thought, came the snorted answer in the back of her head: _you're waxing poetic, girl._ Why this thought struck her as funny, she couldn't quite tell. But then again, perhaps it wasn't as silly as the original sentiment which had prompted the rather curt reply of her inner voice.

She was _not_ floating on clouds, but rather she lay on a very comfy mattress with a cool hand running over her forehead. The only person she knew with hands this cool – and not at the same time clammy was...

"Vee?" she breathed out, struggling to open her eyes to confirm her suspicions. The cool hand slipped down over her fluttering eyelids, as if to command them to remain still.

"Shhh" a soft voice whispered into her ear. "I'm here. Rest." A hint of a smile tugged at her lips, and she allowed herself to drift back into blissful unconsciousness.

An undetermined amount of time later it was not this same gentle touch and voice which awoke her again from her slumber. At first she was confused. Where was she? Raised voices shouting far away caused her eyes to flutter open to a candle lit darkness. The candle stood behind a screen to avoid troubling her sleep, yet leaving her with enough light to distinguish her surroundings.

A room. Smallish. A double bed. Wardrobe. Dresser. Screen. And there, behind the screen against which stood the bed on one side and the dresser on the other, the door. Shivering, she struggled out of the bed, one trembling hand reaching for the dressing gown hung over the foot board.

The commotion which had awakened her came from beyond the door. Two voices were engaged in a shouting match, a third one underlaid the conversation in calmer tones. She half walked, half crawled to the door, using the wall and dresser which stood against the screen to keep herself propped upright. It was upon this that the candle stood. For a moment she leaned against the wall, her legs half buckling with the strain of keeping her weight upright.

Once at the door, she nudged it open, wincing somewhat at the harsher light of the mage lit torches framing the hallway. Then she stepped through - smack into the middle of an argument. Vicente was growling at a Bosmer, from the annoying pitch of the voice, and an Imperial in Speaker's robes was standing a step behind Vicente, near enough that she could reach out and brush her hand against his back, leaning against the wall casually, an expression half ways between a smirk and annoyance on his lips. He turned his head slightly when she almost tumbled out of the door, reaching out a hand to steady her casually, before turning his attention back to the argument at hands. He kept his hand upon her elbow, as she gripped the door frame tightly. The other two had seemingly not noticed her.

"I demand to see her. The Night Mother has expressly announced her return. As the Listener it is my duty to see to her." The Bosmer was saying. From where she stood she could only guess at what the mer looked like – Vicente's and the Speaker's cloaked figures blocked him from sight.

"She is ill." Came the curt answer.

"And why is that? Because _you_ could_ not _control your darker urges."

"Three's a charm." Tessa interrupted him almost sweetly and, once Vicente shifted to glance back at her, his eyes catching hers in an almost hypnotizing gaze, before pulling away again, allowing her a view of the Bosmer he was speaking to: "Don't tell me the Fetcher's still alive." But this last part was said in a low whisper. A spark of what she was certain was merriment danced in the Speaker's eyes when he glanced at her. He had been close enough to hear her whispered cursing.

"You shouldn't be up." Vicente reprimanded her softly as he walked the three steps to her side, gently slipping one arm around her waist, offering her to lean on him instead of the door frame. The Imperial's hand withdrew, now that its support was no longer needed.

Her head dropped against Vicente's collarbone before she answered him. "I couldn't help but over hear your slight commotion."

Without another word, Tessa was ushered back into the room, the door closed firmly against the encroaching light from the hallway.

~V~

Lucien glanced over his shoulder as the door behind him was closed with barely repressed rage. Then he stepped into Ungolim's path as the Bosmer stormed towards the door. "Don't tempt him."

"The Night Mo..." Ungolim began, but was waved off by Lucien.

"Tessa is still weakened. She cannot possibly be subjected to any amount of questioning." Arms crossed, Lucien stayed between Ungolim and the now closed door.

"Fine. One week from now, she is to come to Bravil for questioning." The Bosmer ground out between clenched teeth.

"Should she be well enough to travel, I will personally escort her there." Lucien replied smoothly, a light smile tugging on his lips. It was a smile which did not reach the impenetrable brown eyes.

That night, Ungolim had left the Sanctuary not long after his confrontation with first Vicente, and then Lucien, Lucien sat in the dinning room with several of his assassin when Vicente helped Tessa through the door and into one of the many padded seats.

"I'll fetch her something to eat." Telaendril said, and hurried into the kitchen. The lithe Bosmer returned moments later with a glass of milk and fresh bread. "We'll try something more substantial if this agrees with you." She said softly once she placed the scant food in front of Tessa.

The petite Breton nodded her head in thanks, before her eyes focused onto those assembled.

"Hi." She said somewhat lamely with a faint smile tugging on her lips. She could only recognize the Imperial she had seen briefly earlier, the others stared at her expectantly, but each in his or her own manner smiling. Ocheeva reached over and patted Tessa on the arm with a wide, pointy tooth-filled smile, while Antoinetta obviously contained her own excitement. Though it was normal for the hyper Breton to hug everything in her path, Lucien noted with amusement that she cast worried glances at the somewhat sour looking vampire sitting next to the newcomer, and thought better of it. Knowing the young woman, she would corner the still frail assassin before long, and hug her to death.

"A new sister!" Gogron boomed from his place on the other side of Vicente, reaching past the vampire and gently tapped Tessa on the shoulder. He had probably meant to add something, but was quickly interrupted by a squeak from Kita, sitting next to Lucien. The second newest addition to the Sanctuary still felt her ribs protest from the hug she had received from Gogron upon her arrival a week ago, promptly putting her out of commission for at least another week.

"Be careful Gogron! I don't think she's quite ready to be beaten back into bed by a well meant pat on the back from you." Antoinetta pipped up worriedly. Telaendril turned to the still smiling Tessa, the smile having grown somewhat perplexed, and elaborated: "He had a bunny when he was little... but he petted it so hard that he broke the skull. Sometimes, he doesn't quite know his own strength." With a shake of her head she indicated that the brute needed to learn some control.

"Oh." Tessa answered, unsure what to make of those assembled around her. Vicente just shook his head mildly when she looked up at him. There was no point in seeking to understand.

"You knew our Listener?" Lucien asked, smiling slightly at the grateful look he received from Tessa. A question she could answer. Deal with her new Sanctuary mates, not so much yet. Then Lucien's words registered.

"That Fetcher is_ our_ _Listener_?" The expression of horror and distaste caused quite a few chuckles.

"You don't approve?" came the mild demand.

"He's... he's... an idiot." Tessa flailed around for a word, finding none truly strong enough to detail the extent of her dislike, to the general amusement of those settled around the table. "We were recruited around the same time. I had to do a mission with him once. It was a _fiasco_. He's incompetent." She quickly elaborated.

"That was 53 years ago." Vicente interposed with an amused smile tugging up the corners of his mouth, revealing gleaming fangs.

"He didn't strike me as having changed." This earned her a few chuckles and a smirk from Lucien. "Even Rabbit would have been a better choice than _that thing_."

"Rabbit?" Teinaava asked, the confusion evident in his voice. Tessa smiled and nodded, as if it there the most natural thing in the world to have someone called Rabbit in her past.

"Perhaps, you would enlighten us?" Lucien asked.

"I have a better idea." Telaendril interrupted. She turned to face Tessa with a smile. "Why don't you tell us your story?"

"From the moment I joined the brotherhood?" the Bosmer nodded. Looking around, she could see quite a few looks of approval at the idea.

"It's a long story."

"Tell it, or they'll hound you to death." Vicente told her succinctly. She closed her eyes a moment, resting her head on Vicente's shoulder.

"All of it?" she finally asked softly.

"All" he agreed. She nodded and considered her words. She knew that both he and Lucien, as she had learned he is called, would want to know not only where she had been, but also what she had done and the reason for her being there. She smiled sadly to herself, knowing that she couldn't tell them nearly enough to satisfy them. The chains which bound her prevented it. The story of her life, that she could tell. Perhaps, by the time she arrived to the end, she would have an idea on how to explain.

"How does one begin the story of one's life?" She asked somewhat rhetorically, before launching into her tale.


	2. Chapter 1

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Since the HC Davos won the Swiss hockey championship – something which makes _this_ girl very very very happy – I'll update earlier than planned. =)**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Author's Note**: The story will be told from several different perspectives, depending on the story arch in question. The present time (the game time) is in third person, and the perspective jumps according to what I happen to want. Tessa's past is a first person narration in her own voice. This just a little head's up if you're confused. I had quite a bit of trouble when I worked out the story, trying around different perspectives until I felt it made some sense. The prologue was rewritten about a dozen times before I was even close to happy with it. The first chapter four or five times. I stopped counting.

**I wanted to thank all those readers who left me such lovely reviews. I honestly hadn't expected to have anyone comment on my writing. I'll try to improve those things which I had pointed out in PMs and I hope I can fulfill the expectations of a good tale. Thanks again everyone. **

**Cheers,**

**Canna**

**Chapter 1**

_And that the promise you give me today,_

_still holds true tomorrow._

Running, isn't that how these stories always begin? With someone running? A crime committed, and the guilty one running for her life in misery? I was certainly running. And I was 100% miserable. And, but all the others did not know that, I was also guilty of the crime. Poor, innocent, stuttering little Tessa could not possibly be capable of the crimes which would soon be the talk of Leyawiin. As far as they all knew, I had left soon after breakfast on an errand for my mother, and should be returning in a few days... except that I won't. Perhaps they will believe me dead? I could always hope. Then again. I could also have done what I did without leaving, and the fools would probably have been none the wiser. After all... sweet, innocent... _stupid_ little Tessa was harmless. Right?

If it makes you happier to believe that...

Then again, had I stayed, I would not be in my currently miserable situation of huddling underneath the indifferent and imperfect shelter of a boulder whose side had been carved out by the coming and the going of the river in the centuries past. I wouldn't be staring despondently at the broken, murky from the rain and the cloud covered uncertain light surface of the Lower Niben – or was this already the Niben bay? With the rain and the lateness of the afternoon, I couldn't make out the landscape beyond the first few feet of the river. If it was the bay, then Bravil would not be far off, meaning I had made good time in catching up my... my slight delay in leaving Leyawiin. I could probably dare to push on till the Inn of Ill Omen – Olfgar's father must have been drunk when he named it.

Sheogorath was truly enjoying himself at my expanse. Well, let him enjoy himself. I'm planing on taking my inheritance and finding a new life somewhere. He can't stop me with a little drizzle.

_Well... I do have no one but myself to blame_. I thought to myself. I could have put off my journey. _But then again... I wouldn't be free then._ Calming myself with those words, I shouldered my bag again – it contained all of the belongings I cared about: a change of clothes, my favorite night shirt, the inheritance of 100 septims and a ceremonial silver dagger left to me by my father when he died nearly fifteen years ago, and two books I had not wanted to part from. The dagger was an elegant, sharp edged, almost dainty thing, probably worn as decoration by a lady once upon a time. I couldn't imagine my father, a trained swordsman, wielding such a frail looking weapon. It suited me perfectly.

I had enough mastery in the school of Alteration to enchant the rather small and pathetic looking bundle to resist the rain water. It wasn't the school I was most adept in, but it was a magicka I had always considered useful. Not that my family agreed. They had considered my dabbles in magicka as useless for one who can't even _speak_ properly.

_The fools always did think that there wasn't anything between my ears – only a big black nothing._ I thought to myself, rather amused. If they ever learned that it had been stupid little Tessa who had so brilliantly... But well, really, what was the point of gloating when there was no audience. None had seen me, and that nagging feeling of having been watched, was just that, a nagging feeling. My looks helped me pass unnoticed. I have black hair just shy of mundane. It was eye catching only in its dullness. A life time of trying different shampoos and tinctures had left me shrugging and accepting it as it was. There was no point in crying over it. My eyes were just as mundane. A limpid brown which seemed to be not only out of place with the black hair and pale skin, but had the expressiveness of a cow watching someone walk past – when I so desired it. A suitor, who had wanted access more to my family than me, had once given me the best compliment of me life: when I laughed, my eyes seemed to turn to sparkling diamonds, turning my otherwise normal brown eyes into an unusual amber tinted color which sparkled and shone like the speckles of light reflected off a polished wooden surface – you know the kind of surface that was polished and oiled and polished again until it was almost as good as a mirror. The eyes were by far my best features. My figure was always a tiny bit on the well fed side, rounded and soft and innocuous. With my mouth closed I seem like a dear girl. When I speak I come across like an idiot. But let's leave that. There's no point in poking around in open sores.

Calmly, I trudged back up the river bank to the road, stopping only long enough to dig up several Mandrakes. My skills in alchemy, to put it mildly, are catastrophic. I couldn't keep most herbs apart to save myself and thought lavender just looked pretty. But I did know enough to know that mandrake was good against illnesses. Tracking up to Bruma in this weather was almost a guarantee for at least sniffles. The downside of mandrake root was the taste. Anyone who has never chewed the stringy, pulpy root cannot appreciate how vile it tastes. It is a bitter taste. But it isn't like drinking a bitter ale, or a stale water. These are liquids which seem to seek out every nook and cranny of the mouth, seek out even the tiniest of space between the taste bud to drive home just how wile they taste. No, mandrake root juice takes this to an entirely new level. It seems to grate off the taste buds, scourging the interior of the mouth like sand, removing any imperfection.

With distaste I chomped down on the root, promising myself to buy a cure disease spell at the first opportunity. Because, while not brilliant in curing and healing, I know enough to heal basic diseases and put bones back together. I couldn't heal a critical wound or a serious illness, but anything below that was fair game.

Then again, once I reached Bravil, I stood undecided for only a few seconds. I would _not_ go into that particular city. The very air itself seemed to be a cesspool of infection, ready to strike down anyone who came too close. Leyawiin, while not pleasant, at least had the maritime climate and its storms to regularly wash the air clean. In Bravil, the air seemed to have grown stale several centuries ago, without hope of renewal. Not even the still falling rain could wash the sense of decay and festering illness out of the air. So, bravely, I continued chewing on my Mandrake root, and continued on towards the inn I knew to be about halfway between Bravil and the Imperial City. I stopped there when ever mother sent me on errands to the other guild halls.

It was well past midnight when I finally arrived at the inn.

I've known Olfgar and Brunhilde for several years. In fact, come to think, I knew them already before father died. We would always stop here on his trips down to Leyawiin for business when we'd come down from Farrin, in the north of High Rock, near the border to Skyrim. I would always ride in front of my father and enjoy the silly little explanations he would give me. Like about how the wolves knew to keep away from us because he had an invisible bell ringing which would frighten them. I now know that it was just a fable to keep me from being frightened. I miss my father. And Olfgar and Brunhilde are part of these memories. I never stop there when I am traveling with others. I do not want the memories of me and father calling out to Olfgar's father – back then the old man was still alive – soiled by my family.

It was just barely the other side of midnight when I pushed open the door to the common room, soaked to the bones and in a matching mood. Several Imperial troopers lounged around the chairs, emptying the last pint of the evening before turning in for some rest. They spared me only a cursory glance. Their drinks were by far more interesting than the gray mouse which had just walked in.

In my soggy dress and tiered looking eyes, I felt wholly out of place. But upon seeing me, Olfgar hurried out from behind the bar, and pulled me into a bear hug. I almost disappeared in the tall Nord's – now there's a pleonasm if I ever saw one – embrace.

"Lass!" He's kind of like an older brother – a true older brother, not one in name only. "Get yourself down to Brunhilde before you freeze, silly girl."

"T-thank y-you Olf!" he nodded quietly, and ushered me down the ladder to where he and his wife kept their personal rooms. At least he hadn't asked me why I was traveling in the middle of the night.

"What in the name of the gods are you doing about in the middle of the night girl? You should long ago have been in bed!" Brunhilde was a petite Nord, if such a thing was even possible. Where her husband was as big as a bear, she seemed more to be a delicate doe. And obviously pregnant. Better humor her then. Nord's have notoriously bad tempers. Pregnant women have notoriously bad tempers. Now put the two together and you get the general idea.

"I m-mis c-calc-culat-ted. I Th-thought t-that it w-was earlier i-in t-the day. Or I w-would have st-topped in B-Bravil." Brunhilde was one of the few persons on Mundus, I had few problems speaking with despite my somewhat obvious problem. It has to do with the memories of my father I think. That, and I know with the certainty of a rock, that neither she nor Olfgar will judge me for how I say things. The Nord woman shook her head at me and immediately begun unwrapping me from my soaked clothes. Mother hen. That's all I need to say.

"Only you could be silly enough to do something like that." I gave her a wry smile, the corners of my lips pulling up and inwards just a little bit. In silence I allowed Brunhilde to towel my hair dry and dress me in a clean, dry but somewhat low cut shift, before showing me into the spare room nearest the ladder leading up to the common room. The room already showed signs of the upcoming addition to the family.

"W-when w-will the b-boy be b-born?" I asked as Brunhilde pulled the door open to the room.

"The boy? What makes you think it's going to be a boy?" I just shrugged. I somehow knew that it would be a boy. I sometimes have such intuitive knowledge. Things which I shouldn't know, but somehow did. In the back of my head I could still hear my father's whispered voice _to trust the feelings_, as he had put it. What had he known about me which I did not?Brunhilde's eyebrow rose half an inch, and I could feel the corners of my lips pulling up in one of my rare smiles.

"D-doesn't Olf w-want a b-boy?" I asked to deflect from the previous question, shrugging slightly as if to say that this would explain my question.

"True... but that doesn't mean it'll be one." Again, I shrugged, as if to say there is always hope. Brunhilde answered with a grin. "In three months." She finally said in answer to the first question. Then she pulled me into a tight hug. "You sleep well kid."

"I'm t-twenty-f-five... t-two y-years ol-older t-than you."

"I know. But I can't help feeling that I need to protect you. Olfgar said that we owe you that, if only for the sake of your father's memory. He thought greatly of him." Brunhilde answered before stepping away, and closing the door softly behind herself.

~V~

"You mean to tell me," Kita interrupted once she thought Tessa had come to a place where she could easily interrupt, "That that run down, lice ridden, pest cursed place was once a welcoming place?" Her tone said that she could _not_ believe that.

"Yes. With Brunhilde and Olfgar, it was."

"It ain't no more." She chuckled rather darkly.

"How so?" Tessa asked, already knowing that she would not want to know that particular answer.

"The current owner started renting out the lower rooms as private quarters for long term guests," Kita began, guessing correctly that she might have to choose her words carefully. "The mark which gained me entrance to the brotherhood housed there. They're never going to get the blood out of the floor boards." She added with a wicked grin which explained and justified her presence in the Dark Brotherhood.

"I find a sort of poetic justice that in the same place one of our own was recruited, another fulfilled a contract." Ocheeva commented in her warm voice. It sounded like waves washing over a sandy beach on a warm summer day. With a chuckle, Tessa continued with her story.

~V~

"_You Sleep rather soundly for a murderess! That's good, you will need a clear conscience for what I'm about to propose."_ The voice cut through the haze of sleep surrounding my mind. I had half wakened from a sudden feeling of cold, of... void? I couldn't quite place what it had been which had dragged me from my sleep. I only ever slept well when I was away from Leyawiin, so I was quite surprised that my sleep had been interrupted by a nightmare. And yet... no cold sweat. Or rather, it was only now beginning, as if the words were only the start, and not the ending.

Shuddering I waved my hand at the candle on the table to kindle the flame – you gotta love Destruction Magicka, not a specialty of mine, but hey, as long as I can kindle a fire, who cares - and nearly screamed. Well, I did try, but no sound came out. That faint gasp I did manage does not really count as sound. A black figure stood directly between me and the flickering flame of the candle. Perhaps this was the dream? The words... they echoed in my mind. Not because they were so gruesome, but because they were the truth. Quietly I looked up at the figure, trying to see the face in the darkness.

"Wh... Wha... What d-do y-you w-want?" I finally managed to stutter out, and hated myself for how frightened I sounded. Stutter be damned. The figure – it was a man – laughed. It grated on me, when people think me daft and worse, just because I can't articulate properly. And as I said... the angrier I become, the worse it is.

"Don't worry, little Sister. I mean you no harm. We have been watching you. Your death craft has caught the Night Mother's attention."

"Who?" See, the only times I actually manage not to stutter is when I'm fascinated by something, and I keep my lines short that is. Something about this man was hypnotic, and I couldn't even see more than a hint of his face. Angular. Gaunt. An impression of red eyes? Those would be the words I'd use for what I see.

"Curious, aren't you?" I simple stared up at him, considering using my night vision to pierce through the shadows surrounding his face. Somehow I doubt he would appreciate it. It was not a spell I could manage without giving myself aways through whispered words or movements. I never before saw any reason why I should try. "The Night Mother is our Unholy Matron. She guides us and nurtures us, her dark children through her terrible Black Hand."

"The B-b-black H-hand?" I asked, and at the same time realized that I was still sitting in bed in my rumpled clothes, bed frizzed hair and far too low cut neckline for me to really feel comfortable. What a way of making an impression. The shadow – I seem to have forgotten to ask for a name – chuckled again. The hairs on my arms stood up and I could feel goosebumps running down my back and over the visible skin. A detail I'm certain he did not miss.

"The ruling body of the Dark Brotherhood." Ah... an assassin. Should I be amused? I know that an expression similar to a smirked scowl flickered across my features. "So you know what I am then?"

"Yes." I answered simply. Better keep it short, least I stutter too much.

"Tell me Tessa... how would you like a family again... One who will not laugh at you, or spite you, or barely tolerate you? One who will give you the warmth and caring you crave?" The voice was low, an impression of honey running off a spoon, soothing over the uneven surface of bread. Sickly sweet, yet I can't seem to deny myself the pleasure of listening to it.

"Wh-who a-are y-you?" I wasn't going to answer his question just yet.

"Vicente. My name is Vicente" He whispered almost seductively as he knelt next to my bed, running a calloused hand over my cheek as he spoke. "I am a Speaker of the Black Hand." I could feel the tingle of magicka tracing the movement of his fingers. What magicka, I didn't know. Also his hands were cool, almost unnaturally so, for they showed none of the clamminess normally associated with cold hands. No this was the coolness of a summer breeze right as the storm breaks, and you can finally breath again now that the lingering humid-hot weather has been dispelled. My breath caught in the back of my throat. Longing... what for, I don't know.

"Why me?" I finally managed to whisper, still hypnotized by the apparition at my bedside. He just laughed, and pulled a small wrapped bundle from underneath his cloak, laying it besides me on the bed. It wasn't longer than the distance from the tips of my fingers to my elbow. I reached out one hand for it. Through the silken fabric I could feel cool metal, the outline of a dagger. As my hand settled onto it, Vicente placed his own hand over mine.

"Accept this gift. Its blade hungers for a new master who would steep it in blood."

"Wh-" I began, but my voice faltered. For once, just this once, I wanted to speak without the stutter. To express myself without stumbling painfully over every word. To explain my thoughts as naturally as all of those around me. I bite my tongue to keep the tears at bay, feeling them sting in my eyes. Silly, stupid, _weak_ girl. I berate myself, looking away from him in a vain attempt to hide the threatening tears.

"What must you do?" His hand gently slipped up to my chin, forcing me to look up into the shadows where his eyes lay hidden. Again I had the impression of red eyes glowing softly. "You must do what you can do best, _Sister_." He let the silence gather around the hissed whisper of his final word. Dazed, I could only stare up mutely. His voice dropped a few more octaves. "In Bruma there lives a recluse. On the east side of town, under the sheltering protection of the city walls. She believes herself safe from us. Kill Marianna the Cold, and you shall be one of us. Once you have done this deed, and sleep in a location I deem secure, I will again contact you." As suddenly as he had arrived and interrupted my dreams, he left. One moment, he was kneeling next to my bed, the next, all that remained was a shadow which seemed to linger in the flickering flame. Casting my detect life spell – there were some perks to living in Leyawiin and being an accepted member of the mage guild chapter there – to see nothing. It was as if he had just ceased to exist. In the next room I could see Brunhilde and Olfgar's telltale shimmering pink life force. Further above, where the Imperial Troopers would be sleeping, I could also pick up life signs. But none moved. Had this Vicente been just a shadow? A dream?

The blade lay by my side, a silent remainder of the reality.

Fingers trembling I ran my hand over the outline of the dagger again, finally pulling back the black silk to gaze at the weapon. I picked it up. It felt oddly good. Where my heirloom was a dainty weapon, more for show regardless the sharp edge of the blade, this was a weapon of action. Elegant, yes. Well proportioned. Beautiful – the hilt was intricately carved in a way in which it would lie naturally in my hand when held _à la Bretonne__ (1)_. Deadly.

My own breathing, somewhat erratic, was louder than the hiss of the dagger pulling free from its sheath. The sheath dropped onto the wooden floor with a low thunk, the garter like straps tangling into a small heap. It would tie around the thigh, hanging at the perfect angle to be freed quickly. With one finger, I ran down the edge, cutting myself nearly to the bone with the well sharpened edge. _Ouch_.

My blood ran down the sharp, oddly light leaching black. It did not cling, choosing instead to drop onto the rough brown woolen blanket I still sat huddled under. Perhaps my stepfather had not been as useless as I always thought. His fixation on blades had taught me one thing: the meaning of a good weapon, and years after years of watching and mimicking movements, I had a good grasp of what to do with such a weapon. An idea on how it _should_ lay in my hand. An image of my father standing on the green outside our house in Farrin practicing crept up into my head. Perhaps Stepfather wasn't my only source of inspiration.

I would go up to Bruma. Complete the errand for my mother as if nothing unusual had occurred. And perhaps I'll check out this Marianna the Cold. What had Vicente said? _Would you like a family again..._ _One who will not laugh at you, or spite you, or barely tolerate you? One who will give you the warmth and caring you crave?_

Yes... yes I would like it very much.

~V~

Tessa stifled a yawn as she munched on the last of her bread.

"You need sleep." Ocheeva's voice dragged her back to the present, and to her almost drooping lids. She gave a wry smile and tried to stand up, only to find her legs too weak. Chidingly, she looked at Vicente.

"Next time... leave me a bit more blood, if you please." He answered her words with a pointy smile, and helped her to her feet. The moment her head hit the pillow, Vicente's cool hands lingering on her shoulder, she slipped into a deep sleep.

"How is she?" Lucien asked from the doorway, hidden from view by the screen separating the room in half.

"Recovering."

A sigh followed, before Lucien spoke again. "I will want to question her tomorrow. And a week hence I will take her to Ungolim."

"I'm almost tempted to come along, just to see the Fetcher squirm." A low chuckle answered him. Lucien waited for him and together they walked to the Speaker's office.

"Can she be trusted?" The silence following this question hung heavily in the air. Resentment spread through Vicente like a bad drop of blood making his stomach curdle. But he snapped his mouth shut on the 'of course' that threatened to thunder out.

"She could... back then..." He finally answered after silence consideration and debate. "But now... I don't know. She shouldn't even be _alive_ let alone looking as she does."

"Her blood wasn't tainted in anyway?" Shaking his head, Vicente again pondered his words. He had known a shy girl, who had matured into a bloody and adept killer under his mentoring. Cold. Ruthless. Merciless. Yet warm. Kind. Welcoming to those she called Family. The woman she had become, had been the pride of his Sanctuary. And yet... 53 years was a long time.

"I somehow doubt, that the answers she will give are the answers we will want." The vampire finally said. The blood red eyes meeting the hard brown ones were grim, a hint of doubt swirling through them.

**Author's Note**

1)_ à la Bretonne _should actually read _à la Française_ (the French way.) But it wouldn't have made sense in the context of the story, so I truncated it to say: the Breton way.

It's a way of holding your foil in fencing in which you hold the hilt between your thumb and the first finger following it (dunno what that's called in English). The other three digits are used to balance the weight of the blade out and so, when you attack, you can contract the fingers to add speed to your motion, letting them relax again once the movement is over, saving some energy. If held properly, the hilt of the blade is not visible when you hold up your arm, palm facing your face, to someone standing facing you. It's a bit of an unnatural hold on the weapon for a beginner, but eventually you realize that it's by far more efficient to parry than if you just grip the hilt as if you were holding a knife to cut a piece of meat. It makes your movements faster and more controlled. It isn't a movement meant for strength – you wouldn't use _that_ on a claymore – but really for speed associated with light weapons.

Hehehe... don't get me started on Fencing... I discovered it as a sport about 4 years ago, and I've been hooked since then.

**A Note on Magicka**

In my writing, I presume that the better a mage knows a spell, the less he or she will need to make obvious signs of casting. True mastery of a spell is indicated by a lack of physical signals showing the casting itself, or perhaps just the flickering of the eyes, an exhaled breath. There's got to be some perks to train a spell over and over and over again.

Also, I should probably explain why Vicente didn't show up on Tessa's life detect spell. Take a look at the name of the spell... and remember what Vicente is. If a spell detects life... should it also be possible to detect undeath? In my opinion no. Life presupposes a heart beat, the rush of blood through the veins, breath and all the other minute details of a _living_ being which ages slowly over time and eventually dies. All the undead creatures – from liches to zombies and vampires – do not fulfill any of these criteria for life, as a result I decided that a second spell would be needed which would pick up on the Magicka which would necessarily be needed to maintain life beyond its death.

Hehehe... apologies for the LONG author's note. I'm too chatty by far.


	3. Chapter 2

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Once again, Thank you for the wonderful reviews! I truly appreciate them. =)  
**

**Chapter 2**

_The world is fast and forgot to be lasting - _

_temptation set its deadline._

The morning, two days after her unexpected return, found Tessa sitting in the common room, parchment and journal spread open in front of her, staring listlessly into the fire. Earlier that morning, Telaendril had helped her clean up herself – something which still made her cheeks burn in embarrassment. Two days and she was still too weak to move about unaided, let alone take a bath without someone holding her, lest she drown. Wistfully she had wished to have her things back, only to have Vicente point to the two bottom drawers of his dresser. These contained all the possessions she had left behind, neatly folded or stacked. The vibrant yellow blanket with the blue patches she loved so much. The small jewelry box of polished mahogany which contained her small selection of enchanted jewelry. The clothes she would wear around the sanctuary – ranging from a deep emerald green full length dress with a warm brown knee-length woolen jacket to go over it to the black with red trim flannels she had bought in Bruma. And, filling almost the whole of the bottom drawer, her notebooks and notes. Pages upon pages of scribbled writing. Her research on spell crafting and casting.

Two drawers. Enough space to contain her life.

It was at this same occasion that Telaendril had learned of Tessa's penchant to answer yes _and _no when she didn't want to answer a question. The question had been innocuous enough.

"Do you find the Sanctuary the same as when you left it?"

"Yes and no." She had answered, prompting a look on the Bosmer's face requesting information. Tessa did not elaborate. How could she explain that while everyone here was kind to her, and treated her as an honored guest, she did not belong. _Her_ family was gone. And this new family, treated her with kindness in deference to Vicente, and not because she was one of them. The rooms were the same. She could find her way through them with her eyes closed. But it was not home any longer. Every time one of them looked at her, she could _see_ the question burning on the tips of their collective tongue: _Where were you, for 53 years? And can we trust you? _Every time, she was tempted to answer:_ No, you can't. But you don't have much choice in the matter._

In a sense, Tessa found herself jealous of Kita. Of the easy acceptance the younger Breton found amongst the assassins. It was the same acceptance she herself had received so many years ago when she'd first joined. An acceptance denied her now because she would not, could not tell them where she had been. Thankfully, it had become somewhat accepted that the question would _not _be asked, regardless of Tessa's own awareness of its existence.

With a deep sigh, she focused her eyes back onto her notes, never once considering that her own hesitance to open to her new family might cause distance. Almost naively she had thought that she could pick up where she had left off, without explaining the why or whereof. Trust was something given freely the first time, but which had to be earned the second time. There had never _been_ a second time in the Brotherhood, so there was no book she could read and find the answers in.

"Should you not be resting?" The mild tones interrupting her were rather at odds with the morose tone in Tessa's own mind. Startled, she looked up at Vicente. A reservedness lay behind the red eyes which Tessa could not place. Grasping at straws and feeling caught somewhat off balance, she gave him a scowl, attempting to hide how ill at ease she felt.

"I was bored to tears. It's my body which is weakened... not my mind." she answered tartly. "It seems you've forgotten what your snacking does to me." She added, this time matching the mild tone Vicente had adopted, the hint of a smile playing around the corners of her eyes and mouth.

"You are familiar with our resident Vampire's bite then?" A cool and collected voice asked from behind Tessa. She shifted somewhat in her seat to glance behind at Lucien, raising her eyebrows with a wicked smile.

"_Intimately._" She purred to the general amusement of Vicente, whose lips quirked up to reveal his fangs, dispelling the annoyed expression which he had sported when he had found her, and pushing the morose thoughts of earlier fully from her mind.

"I won't ask." Lucien answered this with a mildly benign expression as he sat down in a chair opposite her, though the look on his face spoke volumes. Vicente settled down on the armrest of her chair, one hand resting on her shoulder. An undertone of irritation shifted through vampire's magical signature as the cool skin slide over the fabric of the long green dress and brown jacket he had given her a lifetime ago. Irritation and something she could not quite place. Something like the feeling of an ash storm grating over her skin. "There is something else I would much rather ask." Lucien added once Vicente was settled. Tessa nodded, thankful for any distraction from the worrisome thoughts clawing at her.

What had she thought, about the common understanding not to ask her where she had been?

"I don't think you'll like my answers." She apologized very softly before he had even begun asking questions.

"We will see." Came the prompt response. "Where were you, these past 53 years."

"In a place where time had no meaning." As Lucien was about to ask for a more elaborate answer, she raised her hand to stop him. "And more I cannot tell you... _yet._"_ Plotting with your worst enemies_ is what she really wanted to say. But she left it at that, giving the last word enough emphasis to catch the Speaker's attention.

"Yet?" He repeated, somewhat perplexed.

"Tell me, Master Lachance," she addressed him rather formally, "have you ever felt as a puppet, with more than one hand controlling the strings?" A soft, quiet, almost deathly calm tone had entered into her voice. It held the glint of that part of her personality which was so good at taking lives, that part of her which showed no remorse when challenged, no remorse when given orders to be executed. It was a dangerous part of her personality, which in one way or another was found reflected in all her dark brothers and sisters. A black area best characterized by what was _not_ instead of what was. A void.

"No." Here Tessa laughed softly.

"I have three Masters," she finally answered after pondering her words, "though, you could probably count them as aspects of the same."

"Elaborate."

"My heart; you, as my Speaker; and the Night Mother and our dread Father, Sithis." For each master named, she held up one finger. It was Vicente who spoke first.

"Your heart I can understand. You never could hide it from me." He said with a slight grin, the points of his teeth only barely showing. "But isn't serving the Speaker the same as serving Sithis and the Night Mother? By serving the one, you serve the other."

"Yes and No." She answered with a slight smile, thinking again upon Telaendril's complaint that very same morning about her penchant to give this particular answer. It really did seem to be a character flaw of hers. The next words she seemed to address exclusively to Vicente, her gaze holding his own, almost forgetting that Lucien was present. "While I trust Lucien's judgment – how could I not, not with what I know about him." Seeing the question in Vicente's eyes, she raised a hand to stop him. "Don't ask how, just know that through this, I trust him with my life. The problem lies not with him, but with what I know of the Black Hand. Some... decisions they will make will be... foolish and petty. But he will have no choice but to fulfill them. So you see... where I would gladly walk into the Imperial Prison and declare myself to Adamus Phillida as a member of the Dark Brotherhood should Lucien ask it of me," she had not spent the two days idly, speaking to those who would at least pretend welcoming," I know at the same time that Lucien must bow to the Black Hand to a certain extent. And you do remember my opinion of Ungolim... the fetcher hasn't improved with time. He was an ass back then. He's still an ass now."

"I must agree with you there, Sister." Lucien's voice broke into her thoughts, a certain amount of well contained and measured mirth carrying with his words. The use of the title 'sister' was not lost on Tessa. "And I doubt Phillida would believe you to be a ruthless assassin, you look by far too... innocent and naïve." She just gave him a wry smile of agreement.

"I cannot explain my reasons or the source of my knowledge," she resumed in a more serious tone, "but you have my loyalty."

Lucien nodded at her. He would wait, and watch, and pass judgment when the time came.

Later that night, once they were all assembled in the dinning room for the evening meal, Kita and Antoinetta turned their best 'puppies who have been kicked' looks upon Tessa, followed by an entreaty to continue with her tale.

"It's been two days since you started your story." The others just nodded in agreement, leaning back to wait and watch the still frail looking Breton sitting on her chair, one leg curled underneath herself, while she leaned against the vampire by her side. They were all curious as what the relationship between the two had been, most having seen the care given by the vampire, but not the strain. Both Tessa and Vicente were very careful to hide any hint of disagreement or distance between them.

~V~

Bruma was, is, and always will be cold. There's no other way to say it. Where Leyawiin had been far too hot, Bruma was far too cold. Marianna the Cold. Cold probably because she lives in a place that never seems to warm. Then again, it was late fall, a time of year in which Leyawiin was still too hot to be comfortable, and Bruma was by far further north and higher up. I'm quite sure I'll never become friends with this particular city.

I actually had to quirk my lips at these thoughts. The first ten years of my life I lived in High Rock, near the boarder to Skyrim along the northern coast. Cold seemed to have another definition back then, sheltered as I had been by my father's warmth.

"What's a little lass like you doing all alone in a city like this?" I whirled around at the voice behind me and found myself looking up and up and up and up some more into a huge Nord's face. The top of my head just barely reached the place where his heart would be beating. As a Breton, I wasn't the tallest around. In fact, I was rather short grown as far as even Breton's came. Had I not been on the somewhat well-fed side and curvy, I would have been scrawny, scamp-like. Then again, my trudging up here to Bruma seems to have helped somewhat. No longer fully rounded, but not scrawny either.

I had, in fact, been standing a few feet inside the main gate, wondering what to do now. I'm positively certain I had been gawking, giving me the 'I'm a stupid country girl and have never seen such _big_ city' look.

"M-my M-mother ask-ked m-me t-to l-look f-for s-some i-ingr-redients f-for h-her." I think the poor man was ready to run from me screaming by the time I'd stuttered out my line. But beyond the ghost of a grimace on his face, I could see nothing which would indicate that he in anyway found my little handicap bothersome.

"Where are you from kid?" Kid. Just because I'm short doesn't mean I'm a kid. This was just the thing to make me grumpy. Put a lid on it _kid_...

"Ley-ya-yawiin. M-mother w-works f-for the m-mage's guild." I smiled up at him a bit frustrated at myself.

"There's a guild Chapter here, girl. It might be better to rest there. It's not such a nice city for a nice little girl like you." I smiled up at him, as if thankful for his advice, but secretly wondering if it would be polite to ram by father's dagger into his heart. I'm not a kid, nor am I a little girl. "Come on. I'll show you the way. I know the guild head very well here. By the way. I'm Ingvar." I nodded and smiled up at him again before I followed him like an obedient puppy, allowing myself to be brought to the Guild. They wouldn't yet know that Mother was dead. And if they did, then they might explain my appearance here with the fact that I had left before the murders happened. I smiled thinly at myself. Innocent, incompetent Tessa, only good enough for some fetching errands.

My teeth chattering somewhat from the cold, I followed Ingvar along one of the terrace-like alley ways. The sturdy log cabin houses seeming to radiate warmth in this cold region. The Guild Chapter was an innocuous looking building at the end of the row. My guide pushed open the door and walked in as if he belonged in this place. At a round counter in the common area, a Nord woman looked up with a frown of annoyance crossing her stern features.

"What are you doing here?" I thought he'd said that he knew the guild head well? Not that there seemed to be a full fledge war going on between them. Seeing the lopsided grin on the Nord's face, I shook myself mentally.

"I picked up this young lady near the gates, looking somewhat lost. She's on an ingredient gathering mission for her mother, from the Leyawiin chapter hall." The Nord woman narrowed her eyes at me, and I fidgeted as would be proper for someone like me.

"Who is your mother?"

"Ca-camille t-the Br-breton." I stuttered out.

"You're Tessa!" She suddenly exclaimed and I nodded. "Well, why didn't you say so immediately. How's your mother dear? I haven't seen her since our days in the Arcane University." I swallowed.

"Y-you m-must b-be S-sira." With a smile she nodded. Well obviously my mother dearest had told her all about me in her letters. I'm not sure whether to be thankful or not. Then again, it's not as if it matters. Mother's gone.

"That's right. We studied together. I never could understand why she insisted on going down south after dear Pierre's death. The weather is appalling there!" I nodded in agreement with a small smile.

"M-mother's w-well. Sh-she sends g-greet-tings."

"Well I'm glad to hear that!" Turning to my guide, she gave him a cold look that can only mean one thing: they're lovers and she's in a snit about something. Now this could be amusing. "Get yourself out of here. I'm not gonna talk to you until you apologize properly." With a wry grin, my guide nodded and excused himself. Somehow I have the feeling this is not the first time. Sira turned back to me.

"What ingredients does your mother need now? I swear, that woman goes through those things faster than a Nord empties his mead." I smile slightly and just pull out a list. The list my mother had written only three days ago. Most of the ingredients on the list I didn't even know. I did say I'm hopeless when it comes to alchemy.

"That woman will never learn. I'll ask Carina to prepare the inventory for you." I nodded again, grateful for her assistance. "It's a good thing these," she held up the list for me, "are quite common around here. But come on, I'll show you where you can sleep."

"I'd l-like to w-walk ar-around."

"That's not a problem. Just stick to the main streets. The Chapel of Talos is very nice. You might want to visit that. I'm sure you saw it when you arrived." I nodded again - it was rather difficult to miss the large holy building - and followed her down to the basement where the living quarters were and dropped my bundle onto the bed. Sira left to allow me time to refresh a bit, and I slipped my father's dagger between the bed and the mattress. The other I hid in my boots underneath my skirts. It wouldn't do for them to find two weapons in my things. Especially not with the blood still clinging somewhat on the sliver dagger.

Later, I stepped out, my cloak wrapped tightly around myself, the fur trimmed hood up. Walking towards the chapel, I glanced around to watch what kind of people were here. The guards mostly ignored me – I really don't seem to be so dangerous after all. The Nords ignored me completely, and, when I reached the lee side of the Church and cast a chameleon spell onto myself, no one noticed that the girl walking around had disappeared. I followed the length of the Church and found myself in a less well to-do area than where the guild hall stood. The houses here were mostly wooden huts – shacks really - without the thick logs of the better area. Everything seemed just slightly run down and dirty. Few of the houses had glass windows, only broad shutters keeping the cold out.

It took me only a few minutes to find the house of Marianna the Cold. It lay in the corner, half hidden by two other houses. If possible, this house was in even worse shape than the others, with parts of the thatched roof leaning a bit far down. I'm almost positive that the roof must leak when it rains.

I slipped along the wall, hiding in the shadows as well as I could – chameleon was not invisibility and always left a telltale sign - a ripple in the air which gives away the shape of the being. It might seem strange that I could be so well versed in sneaking around, but when you pass as the scapegoat for anything going wrong, you learn to thread softly so that those angry cannot see you all too quickly. And according to Mina, the head of the Leyawiin guild hall, I had a naturally affinity to Illusion Magicka. Though she had insisted on teaching me the basics of every school. I should probably be grateful to her.

I stepped up to the boarded, glass-less windows and glanced in through a crack between the ill fitting planks. The room seemed almost bare: a cot on the wall opposite the door. A table. A chair. A bucket in the middle of the room. Perhaps there was a little more underneath the window I was sneaking a peak through, but on the whole it seemed uninhabited. The sound of steps behind me froze me in place. Two sets of steps. I slipped back towards the wall, and the shadows it offered.

"Marianna! You must listen to me! They'll find you, even here!" The voice came from a young woman. Teen-aged I think. A pretty Nord, actually, with soft green eyes and fine blond-red hair. The other steps, belonged to a bitter looking older Nord woman at her side. Her face was furrowed deeply with lines – not wrinkles of laughter around the eyes or mouth as some tend to have. They are lines seemingly carved into cold stone. The eyes in this face held no warmth.

"They're too much of fools to know anything about me or where I live." She retorted tartly.

"The Dark Brotherhood is not to be trifled with, you of all should know that." Marianna snorted at the words.

"The assassin they sent after me didn't impress me much. Now go home like a good girl." The young woman just shook her head, and turned on her heel. It seemed to be an old argument. I watched a few moments longer while Marianna walked into her hut, and shut the door behind her firmly. I crept back to the window and watched through the crack. Once she'd closed the door, she placed a small bell on a string so that if the door is opened, she would hear it. But the string was long enough that the door could be opened a good ways, if one was careful, without it ringing. Enough for me to slip through, I think. On the table, besides her meager meal of bread and cheese, she placed a sharp looking dagger. Perhaps I could use her own weapon to kill her? No need to dirty my own. Then again, had Vicente not given me a weapon which, as he put it, called for blood?

From where I stood, I had an almost clear shot for my spells. Illusion had always been my pet discipline, and I had mastered quite a few useful spells. For alteration I could also call what might be said to be nifty spells as my own. Spells which my Stepfather had always considered worthless. Why would an errand girl need to know how to silence someone? Or how to burden someone down? With a grin I prepared the two spells, one in each hand. Then, when her head was turned away from the window, I sent the silencing spell flying towards her, the burden spell flying after just a split second later. I watched her trying to scream. Trying to move. But she couldn't.

Carefully I slipped the door open, so as to not break the thread the bell hung on. For once I was glad that I was small boned. Well rounded, but small boned. And what little fat I had left after my hike up to Bruma – my appetite seemingly having faded – was easily flexed into going past the door.

Marianna's eyes opened wide when she caught sight of me, her head partly turned towards the wall, and almost unable to move thanks to myself. I considered saying a snappy one liner, but how would that sound with my stutter?

My point exactly.

So I just slowly walked up to her, reached across the table for her dagger, and daintily lifted it up between two fingers to examine it. It was sharp, yes, but crude. The hilt worn and badly mended. The blade itself was steel, and though sharp, not as sharp as my new toy... blade. A few spots of rust seem to have blunted it. I placed it back onto the table, and pulled my own dagger out, admiring how it glinted in the light – or rather, how it pulled the glints of light towards it, as if to swallow them whole.

I could see terror shining in Marianna's eyes, and for a moment I hesitated. Could I truly kill a stranger in cold blood? I shook my head and pictured another face. Then I stepped behind her, and dragged the dagger across her throat with as much violence as I could muster. The blood spewed forward over her half eaten supper. Thankfully none touched my clothes, and the few drops which there were, were lost in the dark blue of my warm traveling cloak. So sloppy of me not to think about that. Then, I grabbed her own dagger again, mindful of the blood, and wrapped her own hand around it, at the same time placing the hand so that she herself could have made the wound in her throat. To be sure, I dragged her own dagger over the wound,coating it in blood as it should be. Once my burden spell would wear off, she would collapse onto the table, face first in a moldy looking old cheese. Poetic justice or what?

No point in waiting around. Recasting my chameleon spell, I slipped back out of the hut, assuring myself that the little bell still hung where it should – after all, won't they wonder how she was murdered? Or would they just assume that she had committed suicide? From down the alley behind the Chapel, I could see the young Nord who had been with Marianna stop, and turn to head back towards the hut. Had her hesitation come sooner, I would have been in trouble.

I followed the city wall, jogging lightly along the shadows until I reached the long stairs leading up to the terrace where the castle stood. I scaled them quickly and in a nook of the wall, I released my spell.

For all watching, it would seem that I had walked around near the castle, and was now walking back down towards the Chapel. I smiled a bit at a guard as he walked past me, going back to his bunk in the barracks. I made my eyes as sparkling and startling as I could, and knew that he had turned back once to watch me walk down the stairs. Now if that wasn't an alibi... then I didn't know what was. That and my reputation as a sweet, frightened little girl. Perhaps, my stutter wasn't so bad after all? My smile still in place, I continued walking down the steps.

Just as I passed the statue to head towards the terrace row where the Guild Hall stood, I heard an ear splitting scream, and the young Nord came running out of the alley between the Chapel and the rows of huts.

"MURDER! THERE'S BEEN A MURDER!" The guard for whom I had smiled, suddenly ran past me again, and I watched as he and his companions tried to comfort the weeping girl. Ingvar appeared next to me at the sound of the teenager's screams.

"She had it coming." I looked up at him with wide eyes.

"W-who?"

"Marianna the Cold. She's rumored to have killed her husband. But no one could prove it. Though someone was very certain because supposedly a contract has been taken out on her with the Dark Brotherhood. She even claimed that she'd killed one assassin already and that any coming later would suffer the same fate. Perhaps he finally succeeded?" He looked down at me with a slight smile that seemed to indicate a feeling of justice having finally been served, and that I shouldn't worry too much about this little local colori. Marianna the Cold would not be mourned by many it seems.

It was later that night, I was sitting at the dinning room table with Sira, when one of the apprenticed members of the hall came in with a wide grin.

"It seems that Marianna finally committed suicide."

"Is that the official verdict?" Sira asked him, as she tore a piece of bread from the loaf in the middle of the table.

"There's no sign of a struggle, and even that damned bell of hers was still on the door when her niece found her. No one could have gone in there with her staying sitting like a lamb waiting for the slaughterer." Sira nodded and looked at me, as if suddenly realizing that I might be a bit too innocent to listen to such conversations.

"Don't worry Tes, Marianna was the town's maniac. She was harmless but tried to claim she wasn't." I swallowed my mouthful and nodded as if I didn't quite believe her.

I don't think that a house full of mages qualifies as a location deemed safe. Luckily, Carina had all the ingredients on my mother's list on stock, and I could leave early the next morning. The guard I had smiled at as my alibi yesterday was on duty at the gate, and he stopped me briefly to make sure I didn't leave with bad memories from such a lovely city – his words. I reassured him that thanks to the Guild Hall I had quite nice memories, and walked on my way.

~V~

That night – I had walked towards the Imperial City and taken a room in a small inn on the Red Ring Road heading towards Cheydinhal – I sat in the common room drinking a weak ale, wondering how I committed this crime without so much as a second thought. The Speaker, Vicente, had told me to do it, and seeing an opportunity, I had. I'm not certain why I had obeyed so unthinkingly. Could it be the promise of a family? My family had been dysfunctional at best, cruel and unforgiving at its worst.

I gloomily looked into the bottom of my tankard and sighed to myself. I had felt only a single moment of conscience. A single instance of worry over what I was about to do. And I had slept exceptionally well. Is there something so wrong in my soul, that I could take this without a single twinge of conscience? But you misunderstand. I worry not about the act of murder itself, I worry about my lack of reaction to it. It is as if were deficient somehow. Probably that much the more useful for my new family.

Shaking my head to myself, I finally settled down the empty mug, and looked up around the room. A Patrol of Imperials had just arrived to spend the night and the room was boisterously loud. For a few moments, they were forgetting who and what they were, and enjoying their lives. I do hope none of them notice me. I just know they'd make me the butt of their jokes. From the corner of my eyes I catch how the Inn keeper – a man of maybe sixty – occasionally cast a worried look my way, as if knowing just what the troopers would do and say once they heard my stutter. I get two kinds of reactions: those who want to protect me from the big bad world and those who want to use me as comic relief for their lives. There is no in between.

As quietly as I could, and hugging the shadows, I walked up the steps to my room, catching a look of relief from the innkeeper. He wouldn't have to intervene on my behalf tonight. Would Vicente consider this as safe? Even though it was crowded with troopers drunk for the night? He hadn't been worried about that the last time. After all... I hadn't screamed then. Well, I had tried to, but it hadn't exactly come out right.

I brushed my hair and tied it back into a single braid to keep it out of my face during the night. I had, during my little walk in Bruma with Ingvar as company after the apparent suicide of Marianna had been discovered, bought a comfortable long pair of black, almost skin tight, flannel pants with straight legs and and a matching shirt with red trim. Ingvar had promised me that it was the warmest clothing one could wish for. It would keep me warm in Bruma's cold nights. It had cost me almost 30 septims, but I hadn't regretted it that night after I'd gone to sleep. And I looked good in it. In the past week and a half since I left Leyawiin, my body began to change. I lost some of the roundedness and my face gained a few angles. Probably all that walking... and as I said, I look good in my new night clothes.

Not to mention it would be a bit more appropriate to have a conversation in than my usual night-tie that I would wear in the warm Leyawiin weather.

Mulling over my situation a while longer, I decided to call it a night, and snuggled down into the rough woolen blankets of the bed, feeling the soft flannel hugging me, as warm as Ingvar had promised it to be.

It must have been hours later, a faint ray of moonlight cut through the room from the crack in the shutters when I awoke again. I followed its path from a foot away from the window, along the rough floor until it lost itself in the shadows of a moving figure. Startled I sat up, clutching the blankets against me. A low laugh accompanied the motion. I pulled my feet against myself, attempting to calm my rapidly beating heart. Was I dreaming?

"The Night Mother is pleased with you." The voice broke through the stillness of the room on the heel of the laugh, and I realized that I wasn't dreaming. I snapped my fingers at the candle on the table and lit it, allowing its faint, warm glow to wash over the room.

The figure of Vicente seemed to step out of the shadows and moved to my side, settling on the bed on the other side from where I sat huddled. I couldn't see his eyes, but a smile touched his lips before he turned his face so that again it was completely covered in shadows. "We had not expected you to complete the task quite this quickly, or quite so efficiently."

"How did you know?" I asked, startled at my lack of stuttering.

"We have our ways." He answered quietly. I had the impression that his eyes were sizing me up, measuring me.

"What did you do to me?" I asked next. He had to be doing something, it was not normal for me to speak_ this_ fluidly. No matter how interested I was in a topic.

"A simple enchantment." He waved his hand, and suddenly I felt something leave. Something warm and welcoming. I knew that should I speak now, I would stutter again. Then he waved his hand again, and I felt my confidence in my speech return. I blinked like an owl, of that I was sure.

"Why? Why give me this kind of confidence in myself and my speech?" I found it amazing how commanding my voice was, when I don't stutter. I could get used to this.

"Does a brother not help his little sister?" He asked, amusement apparent in the tone of his voice. I considered bringing my biological brother into the discussion. But it somehow seemed wrong. "For you are now a part of the Family. Your are one of our own."

"I suspect there are rules?" He nodded and help up his hand, five fingers spread out.

"The Five Tenets." He quickly listed them for me and I nodded. Only five rules, but five rules which covered nearly every eventuality.

"Now, know this..." His voice took on an ominous tone, "the killing of Marianna was the covenant, the manner of execution the signature, the blood the ink by which you signed. You are now a part of the Brotherhood. Head to Cheydinhal and find the abandoned house. In the basement you will find a door. A question will be asked. Answer thusly: 'sanguine, my brother.'" He waited until I nodded to continue. "Once there, speak with Katriona. She is the Sanctuary Mistress and will instruct you on your duties." He stood to leave. I knew that within moments I would be again myself, and incapable of tracing him. I quickly followed his movements, and laid a hand on his black cloaked sleeve. He stilled and I had the impression that it was neither normal, nor welcomed, for new initiates to behave so freely.

"Can... can you teach me how to be more self-confidant? How to speak without stuttering?"

"If you mean the spell, that will be easy enough..." His voice trailed off, as if suspecting that it had not been what I asked. It wasn't. I had long ago discovered for myself that it was a cheap relief, which tends to wear off at the worst possible times. Being something of an illusion mage, these kinds of spell come easily to my finger tips. But in my eyes, they are worthless, for they are not a permanent solution. "but if you wish to reach this state without magicka, it will require much work from you." He finally added, after watching the thoughts in my eyes. I swear he could read every last thought I had between the time he began his little speech, and the end. A dangerous man to say the least.

"Magicka is... not always reliable." He nodded and placed his other hand upon mine.

"We will see what can be done." I withdrew my hand, satisfied with this answer. Moments later, I again stood alone in the room. Now that I knew that he had used a spell on me, I could feel it leave, and could have wept. While it is true that a spell would be an easy matter to learn, and apply, it was just that, a spell which would wear off given enough time. I longed for something more permanent.

~V~

"Does that mean you generally disapprove of Magicka to supplement skills which are lacking?" Someone asked Tessa. Her head being else where, and those assembled with her not yet so well known to herself, she had to shake herself out of her story telling stupor.

"Yes and no." A groan followed her statement.

"Do you _ever_ answer just yes or just no?" Telaendril asked. With a grin Tessa answered: "yes and no."

"You're evil." This came from Kita, who was obviously attempting to hold in her laughter, and was failing miserably.

"The problem in using magicka to create the impression of a skill which is non-existent, or seriously lacking," Tessa returned to the question asked, "is that you grow so used and dependent on the magicka, that you will be tempted to neglect training the skill itself, instead of just the magicka. If, on the other hand, you train the skill, and only occasionally give yourself a temporary boost using magicka, then..."

"then you will be a force to be reckoned with." Kita finished for her.

"My point exactly. That and it gave me an almost sick pleasure to be contrary for my parents. They expected me to get over my stutter, no matter how, and there I was refusing to use Magicka." Tessa added in with a grin. It was the morning, a week after Tessa had awoken from her forced sleep. Due to Lucien's presence in the Sanctuary, all of those currently not away on contracts, or having just gone to sleep as in Vicente's case, were assembled in the dinning room. Empty plates, picked clean by hunger, and still steaming mugs of fresh tea or coffee stood at attention in front of their owners, surrounded by a sea of breadcrumbs and fruit peel. Tessa had learned from Telaendril that if Lucien stayed the night at the Sanctuary, then everyone tried to be up and awake for breakfast.

It had been a funny sight for her, to see all the tiered and drooping eyes and stifled yawns, and that only for one man. From the look of said man – the most sleep deprived of all – he understood and accepted this, or he would not have pulled himself out of bed earlier than necessary.

When finally he seemed awake enough to muster a coherent thought, he turned to Tessa. "We'll leave for Bravil in an hour."

As answer, she sighed heavily and nodded.

With a nod to Lucien, she carefully stood up and headed to her chambers. After it had become clear that things were somewhat strained between Vicente and herself after she had mostly recovered, it had been decided that to allow her more space to recover, she would be given a room of her own, instead of a bunk in the dormitory. A fact she was grateful for. Bad enough that she and Vicente seemed unable to speak to one another, unless someone else was present who would moderate the words – willingly or not; but having to be faced with Antoinetta and Kita's chatter from the earliest moments of wakefulness until unconsciousness were just not something she thought she could deal with. In a private room, she could hide when she wanted, without risk of having something on a sugar high cornering her. Or of being hit by the the cool resignation from some of the others.

**Author's note** something must be wrong with me... no author's note to speak off :p


	4. Chapter 3

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Author's Note** Since I'm something of a professional insomniac, I already have an update to post. Written a few days ago, but I only now got around to proofreading it. I glad that the balance between past and present seems acceptable. I was worried that I might be focusing too much on Tessa's past, and not enough on what was going on in the present. Though towards the end, there will be more present than past. =)

**Chapter 3**

_But please swear that when I return,_

_everything remains as it was_

"Ah! Good, you're here." Tessa and Lucien had just stepped into Ungolim's house near the statue of the Lucky Old Lady in Bravil, having spent the night in a nearby Inn. Tessa glanced back over her shoulder through the still open door at the face of the woman depicted. Though it radiated with a well known aura, the face itself did not belong to the one projecting the aura. Then Lucien closed the door, blocking out the sight.

"You didn't exactly give me much choice." She answered mildly and helped herself to a seat without being invited to do so. Her opinion of Bravil had never been quite so high – it sunk even lower as she looked around the flat. Most surfaces were dust covered, or covered in clutter. In a corner, she spotted several bottles of cheap wine. Empty bottles, leading her to wonder how often the _Listener_ over indulged. Her mind still had trouble grasping the concept that he could have risen so high.

"I was quite troubled by your return, truth be told, and did not quite know what to do with you. But I believe we might be able to put you to good use after all." Ungolim began without preamble.

"I have my orders, _Listener_." Tessa emphasized the title in an angry hiss, as a result it sounded not as a respectful means of address, but rather as a slander. "You need not give me any other."

"Orders? What orders?" The Bosmer's voice squeaked, making both Tessa and Lucien want to wince. The only indication of this fact was a slight tightening of the muscles around the jaw.

"Why don't you ask the Night Mother?" came the calm response. "Oh, I forgot, she does not speak to you any longer does she? Except to give you the contracts."

Dead silence followed Tessa's taunting pronouncement in which Ungolim's mouth worked to find words. "How dare you!" He finally exploded, standing up to better glare at her.

"I dare because I know." She waved the accusation away. "Know this, Ungolim, I do not respect you." Slowly, she stood, none of her lingering physical weakness apparent in her posture. "Your orders, I will not follow, unless the Night Mother herself confirms them to me."

"Preposterous. She does not speak to mere assassins." Ungolim declared snidely.

"Oh, but I am no mere assassin." Tessa whispered softly, a look of sadness crossing her features before she once again recollected herself, once again settling a blank look onto her face. With a shake of her head, she opened the door, and stepped out, walking slowly towards the statue.

_Was I wrong to seek a direct confrontation already? _She asked the still carved figure once she had come close enough to lay a hand onto the cold surface.

_Perhaps..._ A chilling voice answered in her head. _But I know your dislike for him. _Cold as the voice was, it did more to settled her strained and frayed nerves than any words spoken to her.

~V~

Lucien watched her step up to the statue, the slumped shoulder and slow gait not escaping his notice. Then he turned his attention back to Ungolim.

"Is it true?" He asked softly of the Listener.

"Yes. She gives me no more advice. I had hoped to keep that knowledge quiet." The answer came through gritted teeth. Of all the Speakers to know of this, Lucien was the last one Ungolim wanted this knowledge available to. Since he had first noticed that the Night Mother no longer spoke to him as a favored, he had desperately attempted to hide the fact. For Speaker Lachance to know this was a minor catastrophe for him. "Does she hope to become the next Listener?" He added with a spiteful tone to hide his own discomfort.

"Perhaps" Lucien answered with a shrug, unaware of much of the lithe Breton's thoughts.

Speaking no more, he stepped through the still open door and headed to where Tessa knelt at the foot of the statue.

"Come," He urged her, "we will head back to Cheydinhal." Quietly, she nodded and stood up, still walking as one troubled.

Only once they had mounted up and were on the road heading towards the Imperial City did he speak to her, his eyes focused onto the road ahead. "How did you know?"

"Have you no dreams?" She asked in lieu of answer, ignoring a quick side glance from Lucien. She would not elaborate, but somehow she had the feeling that she would not need to. Their Unholy Matron often visited her favorites in their dreams, leaving them with the impression of a nightmare, and yet craving more of the unusual touch. The presence of the Night Mother's touch was not something she had ever been able to explain to herself. A child burning herself, learns not to place her hands back into the fire. The sensation of the Night Mother's touch was similar, and yet it was so pleasurable to feel that cold, harsh sensation, that in this case the child begged for fire to place her hands back into.

"I see." The answer was noncommittal at best. A sentiment Tessa could understand well enough. She doubted that any of the favorites would admit to the Listener that he was not the only one.

They continued on in silence for some miles.

"Was it wise to antagonize him?" Lucien interrupted the silence, still not looking at the black haired Breton.

A soft peal of laughter answered him, and he turned to look at her with impassive eyes for a moment, before focusing his eyes back towards the road. "You know," she answered somewhat sheepishly, "I asked _her_ the same thing."

"Did she answer?" Tessa turned in her saddle to look at the face half hidden by a hood. Not a muscle moved in the cheeks. The brown eyes glinted only from the slight sunlight piercing through the cloudy cover. Here was a man who knew how to block the machination of his mind from being reflected onto his face. It was with a wry smile that Tessa answered. To admit to dreams, and to admit that a direct question to the Night Mother had been answered were two wholly unconnected issues after all.

"I have no plans to be Listener, if that is your question."

"But that is not what I asked." came the calm retort.

"But it is the question I chose to answer." This time he turned to watch her. Her brown eyes glinted from more than just the sunlight, a hint of laughter in their depth. But the features surrounding those sparkling eyes were drawn, pale, tiered looking. As much as she tried to pretend to calmness, he could see underneath the carefully prepared layer. Whether she was allowing him to see or not, was another question.

"How strained are things between you and Vicente?" He asked, changing topic, for which he could see the gratitude in her eyes. Vicente, she could speak about. The Night Mother's orders and her relationship to her, she couldn't.

"More so than we pretend." She said after a moment of consideration. "He... is... angry."

"He hides it well."

"He does. But it is there." She agreed and softly she added "and he will be angrier still once he realizes what I am to do."

"What must you do, which could anger him so?" Lucien had moved Shadowmere closer to Tessa's mount, and reached a hand out to place onto her shoulder. The sunlight breaking through the clouds and streaming through the trees at odd intervals, highlighting dispersed little clumps of mookshood or peonies, caught Tessa's attention as she sought an answer within herself. An answer which she knew she could not give him.

"I..." she attempted speaking, but in the end, she could only shakes her head. The hand upon her shoulder withdrew, leaving her to her musings as they followed the Green Road up to the Red Ring Road. Her silence persisted long past the turn off of the Blue Road, which would lead them back to Cheydinhal.

"Lucien?" She called to him softly through the darkening twilight. In another hour they would reach Cheyhinhal. In answer, he turned his head in her direction. Through the gathering gloom and his hood she could not make out his expression. "Would it comfort you to know, that my death is as certain as the rise and fall of the sun?"

"Why do you think it would comfort me?" He asked softly.

"Because, it means you will live and the Brotherhood will strive instead of crumble and fall." She answered somewhat distantly, as if her mind were on other affairs.

"Is this what will anger Vicente?"

"Perhaps, Lucien," a wry grin was illuminated by a straggling ray of sunlight as she turned to face him, before her face once again disappeared underneath the shadows of her hood, "_Perhaps._"

~V~

"Vee?" Tessa stood in the doorway of the vampire's office, watching the slight tightening of the muscles on his back. When she and Lucien returned to Cheydinhal, he had already been up and working behind his desk, sorting contracts and other paperwork into neat stacks. Three centuries of Unlife had given him practice at efficiency.

"mmmm?" She took his answer as invitation to make herself comfortable, which she did after closing the door. In silence she watched the uneven wavering of his quill as he jotted down a few notes, probably attempting to ignore the erratic beating of her heart while she tried to frame her question. From experience she knew that he would wait in silence until she was able to articulate her question. It did not make it easier for her.

"Have I changed so much?" She finally asked. Carefully, Vicente lowered his quill, and rested it in the inkwell near his hand. He turned his head slowly, his piercing eyes seeming to see through her to the parchment which contained the values of her soul. A slight smile pulled at the corners of his lips before he answered.

"Yes and no." Tessa opened her mouth to reply to what she knew to be her own standard answer, then snapped it shut into a somewhat rueful expression. "Is it not what you would tell me where I to ask you whether I had changed?" He continued seeing the somewhat impish look on her face.

"That's true enough." she answered after a short moment to consider her words. "But have I changed so much that it would anger you so?"

"My anger is not at you." He simply answered before turning back to his paperwork.

"Don't Vee. Not this time." Came her choked plea. Surprised at the sound of her breaking voice, he turned back to see twin tears force their way out of her eyes. He had meant to ask what, but with a sinking feeling he understood. Over the centuries of life, he had developed little means of stopping conversations which he did not wish. Of deflecting questions to which he had no answer or which he had no desire to answer. Normally, the person sitting in Tessa's seat, would wordlessly accept the dismissal.

The slight scrape of a chair was the only sound in the room as Vicente stood and walked over to where she sat huddled in her chair. She had closed her eyes, as if to block out the sight of his turned back. Once he had taken the two steps to her side, he became oddly undecided. Hesitantly, he reached a hand out to her, brushing the tear from one cheek. Then he knelt, grabbing a hold of her tightly clenched hands.

"I did not lie to you. I am not angry at you. My anger is for those who took you away for me for so long. I had always known that I would lose you – your body is but mortal, and you have refused my Dark Gift. But to lose you as I did, only to know that you might someday return..." He trailed off. All his life, he always made friends knowing he would outlive them. They would eventually die, if not in the line of work, then of old age. Long after their bodies had rotted in the earth, he would still walk, eternally alone, with only the ghostly memories to keep him company. It was why so many of his kind were mad. The knowledge of what the future held was just too devastating for a lesser mind. Until the brotherhood had taken him in and given him a reason to live, he too had been shattered.

The friendships he made now, where bound in time. For him, these were limited to the blink of an eye. It was something of a shock to him, to find one he had given up to the Void still living. He had lied to himself all these years in which he had wished her back. To have her back was more painful than the loss of her. For he knew, that he would lose her again - soon.

Her tears falling freely by now, Tessa leaned her head against his shoulder, taking the little comfort he could offer her. His hand rubbed softly over her back while she struggled to collect the scraps of her composure, shaping them back into something the world would deem as acceptable.

~V~

I stepped through the gates of Cheydinhal with a strange sensation in the pit of my stomach – as a hand clawing its way up my spine, ripping my guts with it. It wasn't a nervous sensation so much as... well... a nervous sensation... I shouldn't try to kid myself. I was damned nervous and trying not to show it.

To avoid being noticed – either positively or negatively – I had cast the strongest chameleon spell at my command before the city gates came in sight, and stepped through just as the gates opened for another traveler. It wouldn't do for the guards to stop me because I was gnawing my lip bloody in obvious anxiety.

Then I began creeping along the wall. The directions I had been given were precise enough for me to know that if I follow the city wall towards the east, I would eventually arrive at the abandoned building in question. It wasn't long until I found it. Snuggled between two other of those dollhouse-like buildings and the wall, almost out of sight from the Chapel, but not quite. The front door was as in sight as possible, and anyone attempting to open it would immediately be spotted. An assassin taking the front entrance, that somehow strikes me as being wrong. Not to mention the fact that I stood near the wall... behind the building and could see a somewhat worn looking back door. The ground around the door was weedless, as if many feet walked through here regularly. I was certain that, once I opened the door, I would not hear a single creak of the rusty hinges. The door only _looked_ old and worn. Running my fingers over its surface, I could feel the magicka woven into the door. A faint tingle underneath my finger tips seemed to welcome me, and admonished me not to linger. Carefully, I pushed the door open, and as I had suspected, not a squeak or creak. I suspect the door would not open so easily or silently for one not of the Brotherhood.

With quiet steps, I crept through the doorway into the darkness inside the building, and dropped my spell once I'd closed the door. There was much broken furniture. Scattered broken crockery. Even a fallen beam seeming having crashed into a worm eaten bookcase and left to lie there. But a single clear path led to the basement door. This path I followed, with my painfully learned habit of stealth. I only had to imagine _him_ sitting in one of the unbroken chairs, waiting for me to come home so he could punish me for someone else's failings. I was after all, the weakest in the family and could not so easily fight back.

Shaking my head to clear it of the thoughts, I continued onwards to the door. The basement was pitch black, and as disorganized and chaotic as the upper part of the building. And again, as above, there was a path leading through the strewn rubble towards a hole in the wall furthest away from the door. The bricks had been violently pulled out of the wall, revealing a well trampled path. The moment I stepped into the passage I again felt the tingle of magicka, similar to the one I had felt at the door. This tingle had an undercurrent of violence, and I strongly suspected that those unwelcomed would soon find themselves dead. As if to prove my point, my foot hit a skull and some bones laying in the passage way.

The door Vicente had spoken about was unlike anything I had ever seen. It was a smooth black and purred with energy as if it were a live being waiting to be caressed. I did not long deny it this pleasure. The moment my fingers ghosted over its blood carved surface, a rasping voice spoke from nowhere.

"_What... is the color of the night_?" Then an expectant silence fell. I could feel it in the magicka surrounding me. I believe that even if I had been untrained in the arts, my Breton blood would still have felt it – leaving me with the desire to run screaming from the room. I swallowed the sensation.

"Sanguine, my brother." How odd... I did not stutter. Was it perhaps the magicka surrounding me? I'll have to ask. The door opened, cutting my musings short. I stepped through and the door closed again.

"Welcome home, sister." It rasped as it slid back into place. The blood red light from the hallway was blocked off, leaving me in the warmer light of the torches framing the room I now stood facing. It was rather large, with several doors leading off from it. In the right corner, opposite me, a fire place and several comfortable looking chairs seemed to await their occupants who had only stepped out a moment. A book still lay open on the armrest of a low sofa. A cup and open bottled stood on a little table. A dagger, seemingly having fallen unnoticed, lay in front of the blazing fire. A chess game, the pieces still in mid play, was on the largest of the several small tables. Opposite to this warm setting, was another broken down wall, allowing some of the daylight to reach down into the room as if through a grate. I didn't feel any draft, so I assumed that it was somehow magically walled off to prevent the cold air from reaching the main room.

Shyly, I stepped away from the door, jumping slightly at the sound of rattling bones. From around a column stepped a dark guardian. But it seemed to ignore me, so I left it be. Suddenly, one of the doors to my right opened up, revealing a tall Nord woman. And will tall I don't mean tall because I'm short, I mean tall even had I been an Altmer. If I didn't miss my guess, she had to be taller than even Ingvar, strongly built, but not massive. Her muscles did not bunch underneath the sleek cut of her sleeves, but rather seemed toned and svelt. Is it legal to call a Nord willowy? Because that was the overall impression I had of her.

"Ah! Sister! You've arrived. We were wondering when you would be coming. Vicente said he couldn't be sure, but suspected it would be tomorrow." I smiled at her, and even though I felt positively dwarfed next to her, she radiated a welcoming warmth which was so unusual to me. I could not help but like her.

"I c-can b-be f-fast wh-when I n-need to." I spoke a bit self-consciously. What would they think of me if I can't even speak properly? I could feel the tears begin to gather in my eyes. Damn it. I'm turning into such a weeping willow.

"Don't worry about your little handicap, Sister. We will not think less of you." I looked up at her gratefully, and angrily wiped away the tears with the sleeve of my woolen over coat. "Come on, I'll show you where you can drop your things, and then I'll introduce you to the rest of the Sanctuary. I'm Katriona, by the way. The Sanctuary Mistress. I'm in charge of making things run smoothly here, and of assigning contracts to the higher ranking members. Marina will be your mentor and in charge of giving you contracts at the beginning. You'll meet her in a minute." Katriona didn't seem to mind that I did not speak much. She more than made up for my silences, explaining things as she pulled me through the door next to the one she had come out off. It led to the sleeping quarters. The higher members, as well as our Speaker, each had individual rooms. The lower ranked members shared two dormitories, one for the men and one for the women. Katree, as she told me to call her, dragged me into the women's dormitory. Six beds, three on each side, lined the walls, and opposite the entrance door, another, smaller door led to a bathing area. Three of the beds looked used. Each had some sort of decorations which personalized the space consisting of a bed, a small chest of drawers doubling as bed-side table, and a chest at the foot of the bed. A massive double bladed war axe of ebony hung over one of the beds. A quilt in shades of red was thrown over another one. A frilly curtain surrounded the third.

"You can do what ever you like with your space, but do make sure you keep it clean." Katree told me as she pointed out my bed, right to the left after coming in. I nodded and dropped my satchel with my spare clothes and money, as well as the ingredients I had been given in Bruma, onto the bed. "Here's the key to your chest. You can safely leave any personal possession here, we won't touch them. Unless we want to face the Wrath of Sithis." This was said with a lopsided grin.

"I d-don't und-derstand wh-what t-this Wr-wrath of Sit-this is." I asked of Katree, finally being given a chance to speak.

"Nothing pleasant, I can guarantee you. Don't break the rules, and you won't ever have to face it." She laughed softly at my expression. It seemed to be a running joke to pull on the new comers. I shrugged. Perhaps I'll find someone to speak to who'll be a bit more forth coming with information. Marina? Isn't that what Katree called my Mentor. I'll asked Marina.

"Okay."

"When you have time, check your chest. It'll have a present waiting for you." She added with a warm smile, before grabbing my arm. "But come on. You must be hungry and dinner is almost finished. We take turns cooking and try to eat together as often as we can."

"As a f-fam-family." I said.

"A somewhat dysfunctional family, but we try our best." This was said with the widest grin possible, and I couldn't help but like this huge Nord woman. As quickly as she had pulled me to the dormitories, she pulled me out again, stopping at each door to point out to whom they belonged. I don't think I'll manage to keep that straight. All in all there were six doors, besides the two at the end of the corridor leading to the dormitories.

"This opposite is the men's dormitory, next to that is my room. Next comes our Speaker's room – don't bother him when he's in there if you wish to keep your throat the way it is. Unless it's an emergency. Opposite my door is Marina's room. The room at the end of the corridor, next to Vicente's room, is Kat's room. But she's rarely here. Our Speaker keeps her quite busy." The last was said with a strange glimmer in Katree's iced blue eyes, as if there was something I was missing, and which she wouldn't yet explain. "The other two rooms are empty. We each have offices in another wing of the sanctuary. But you'll be given a full tour by Marina later. Now, let's go eat."

We walked back to the common room, and into the door Katree had first appeared from. What ever I had been expecting from the Dark Brotherhood, what faced me in the Kitchen was not it.

We walked straight into what seemed to be a food fight between an irritated looking Khajiit female, an amused looking Bosmer, and what could only be the childishest Nord I had ever met... and I had recently met quite a few of them. The Nord was sitting on the floor with both legs stretched out away from her with a strange brown liquid slipping down her hair and face, dripping onto her cheerful pink robe. The wide, and silly grin and mischievous sparkle in her eyes almost made me laugh. I stifled it out of self-consciousness at my position. It wouldn't do for the newcomer to laugh first thing. Even if it was funny.

Katree walked a few paces ahead of me, and thankfully acted as shield for me. The chocolate pudding which had obviously been meant for dessert flew smack into her chest. She glanced down at her now stained black armor, and fascinated I watched as the chocolate spread slowly further and further down.

"What is the meaning of this?" She asked with a deadly quiet voice. The general movement in the room ceased, as if everyone had been frozen in place. "I leave five minutes and you turn the kitchen into the battleground of a free-for-all food fight?"

"Oi! Our new sister is here!" The Nord grinned up from the floor.

"You're changing topics Nalia."

"Whoops." I get the impression that Nalia the Nord quite likes to pull pranks. And it is quite obvious that the Khajiit had been on the receiving end this time. She looked like a cat dumped into a pond: all scraggly and wet and anything but happy. Not that I would be happy if I had fur all over my body, and it was all smeared with chocolate pudding.

"Where is Marina?" Katree asked.

"Hiding out in the dining room." Came a voice from behind the door on the other side of the kitchen. Moments later an Imperial poked her head around the door, and winced as she saw the battle field. "At least they didn't use Magork's stew. 'Cause I'm hungry."

"And they know I would kill them if they did. Wrath of Sithis be damned." A green, orcish head appeared behind Marina's. Katree was busy rubbing the bridge of her nose, as if herself wondering if it would be a serious enough reason to dare face the specter.

"New look Katree?" A voice asked from behind us, and I turned to see a Dunmer with the darkest blue skin I'd ever seen step up to us. Once he was next to me, He slung an arm around my shoulder and pulled me forward through the mess.

"Don't worry little sister... Some of us here are quite civilized."

"Oh shush up Valen." The Bosmer said with an arched eyebrow. "You're just upset that you missed the fun."

"Traitor." Valen threw his way and turned his charms back to me.

"He's just upset that I'm talking to you and not him." _What have I gotten myself into_?

I was quickly ushered into the dining room, and moments later Magork brought out her stew. Valen and Izza, the Khajiit, kept me company while Nalia and Rabbit, the Bosmer – that's one name I'll have to ask about – begun cleaning the kitchen. It took a moment for everyone to settle down, and as if per silent agreement, I was left alone to wait. No one pestered me. No one asked me questions. I was left in blissful silence, the chaos and commotion of the loud group washing around me like the sea around a rock. Mmm bad analogy... I'm not exactly a rock...

Once everyone was settled around, I finally dared to open my mouth and speak, stutter be damned.

"I s-seem t-to ha-ave wal-lked int-to a zoo. All th-that's m-missing is a V-Vampire." I wasn't quite sure if the dead silence which broke around me was good or not. But I very quickly realized that I hat hit the nail on the head... and straight into my coffin, so to speak.

"Why my dear... the Vampire's not missing." Vicente's voice said from behind me.

"Speaker! You're up already?"

"I heard the commotion, and heard that our newest Sister had arrived safely." I was slowly turning around to face the Speaker, only to find myself confronted with the obvious signs of Porphyric Hemophilia. The Speaker was a Vampire... and I had just made the worse comment possible. I turned back to face the table, pushed my plate of stew to the side, and allowed my face to hit the wooden surface of the dinning room table. I heard him walk up behind me, and soon found a cool hand pat me on the back.

"Don't worry... I don't consider my Sisters and Brother's as appropriate food." I sighed deeply, and raised my head again only to be faced with an array of grins going from toothy to boisterous. I have a feeling I won't live that down quite so quickly. Vicente grabbed a goblet of wine, and sat down next to me, forgoing what seemed to be his usual place at the head of the table.

"I see you've met your new Family. I was hoping on... better behavior."

"But he's given up on us you see... we're all a lost cause. We've all had one or two tight encounters too many." Valen pipped up from his corner of the table. Vicente shook his head in defeat, seeming to have, much as Katree, given up on taming the tempers and humors of the Sanctuary Mates. As long as no one was hurt, and no one outside learned of the court jester qualities of the assassins under his command, he would not do anything about it.

"Tell us Sister," Rabbit asked after a moment, "Tell us about your first kill." I swallowed hard. One sentence, I can live with. I can manage even two or three sentences in a row, stutter and everything. But this would require by far more. I don't know what's worse, stuttering my way through the entire meal, or breaking down and crying now.

As if understanding my problem, I felt a cool hand on by back. As if to tell me that I would be accepted here, no matter my handicap, but that I would have to go through this without magical help – as had been my choice. Nalia, seeing my look, gave me a rather toothy grin for a Nord.

"Don't worry little Sister. We know that between exterior and interior, there is a large difference. Rather stutter in speech than stutter in execution." I closed my eyes and bowed my head down. I wasn't going to get out of this it seems.

"I-I'll t-try." I couldn't promise more. Slowly, every word agony for me, I told them about Marianna the Cold. It took me nearly the entire meal – I was eating too in between, grateful for the short periods of silence in which I would chew my food – but eventually I stuttered out the entire story, a certain amount of fluidity coming into my words towards the end. Vicente and Katree remained silent through out the entire ordeal. Vicente's hand didn't move from my back, silent encouragement which I desperately needed. When I had finally finished, I released a long breath, hoping none would ask me questions. I wasn't ready to deal with those, or rather I wasn't ready to deal with the idea of speaking again. In the past hour, I had said more in a single moment, than in the whole of the past 15 years.

"That proves my point. Tessa might stutter, but she's anything but stuttery in her execution. A bit sloppy from lack of experience, but I don't think any of us would have managed it better on such little preparation." Nalia pitched in, forestalling any questions which might have been lingering in the others' minds.

"It just shows that the stutter isn't so much a physiological problem, as a psychological one." Izza added, in her happy kitten purr of a voice. "Were it a physiological problem, then she wouldn't never have been able to perform such spells in such a precise manner, because the ability to cast comes from the same origins as the ability to speak. It has a common root. I'm willing to assume that she didn't stutter when she was a little girl." She looked at me, as if she wanted to ask, but decided against it, seeing the look of sheer exhaustion which must have been on my face. I really was not used to speaking so much.

"It might be explained with an event in her past which blocked her tongue so to speak. Lucky us it hasn't blocked her hands." Marina seconded the opinion. It seems I had been given a test... and passed. What the test was, I don't know. What the mark needed to pass was, I knew even less. I wasn't going to ask or complain. I did pass after all.

"What about the murder which gathered the Night Mother's attention?" Magork asked, and suddenly I felt the need to be out of the room. To be anywhere but here. I might not have have had any qualms about committing the crime. I might have taken a certain amount of glee in it. But I couldn't talk about it. Not now. It took all of my concentration not to run away, and hide.

"We can leave this question to another time." Katree hurried to say, seeing what must have been a look of downright panic on my face.

~V~

"It is actually comforting to know," Tessa finished up with a glimmer in her eyes, "that not much has changed." She, Kita, Telaendril, and Teinaava were in the practice room. Kita and Teinaava were busy practicing with wooden daggers, while Telaendril and Tessa sat on a table running low along the far wall of the training area. Neither was leaning against the wall, eager to avoid the hanging collection of weapons – daggers, katanas, axes, claymores, and far more weapons than Tessa could place a name on. It had always been like this. The weapons might have changed somewhat in 53 years, but nonetheless it was as deadly looking as she remembered it. She had been speaking during the sparing match, watching as they occasionally stopped to listen. While still not fully comfortable with the returned Sister, they at least accepted her amongst themselves without interrupting what they were doing.

"We're not actually," Teinaava begun, all the while side stepping a wide sweep of Kita's weapon, "soulless killing machines." Once the wide arc of Kita's movement was over, he stepped forward and easily trapped her still moving arm, causing the wooden dagger replica to drop, easily flipping her onto her back. He placed one foot onto her throat, without exerting any pressure.

"Dead?" He asked with the Argonian equivalent of a smirk – a wide, toothfilled expression which caused shivers to run down the back, even if it was recognized as a smile.

"Not..." Kita began, grabbing the other ankle, "Until I am." and pulled. Teinaava flapped backwards, hands flailing for purchase. Kita quickly grabbed the dagger she had allowed to drop when Teinaava had countered her attack. As quickly as she could, she brought the dagger to rest against her opponent's throat.

"Good." An approving voice came from the doorway. Tessa looked up to see Vicente standing there. "But had you not wasted so much energy in a wide sweep of your weapon, he wouldn't have been able to disarm you so easily." He finished with a nod.

"At least she knows how to gutter fight." Tessa added with a soft smile, remembering her own lessons in one on one fighting – wincing only briefly as she remembered the there with associated bruises and sprained muscles and sometimes broken bones.

"True enough." Vicente nodded mildly as both the Breton and the Argonian picked themselves up off the floor mats. "I have a contract for you two, Kita and Tessa." The two women exchanged glances, blue meeting brown. With a shrug, Tessa uncurled her legs and slipped off the table.

"Two persons for one contract?" Kita asked. "Is that usual?"

"Sometimes, when the job requires specific timing which would be nearly impossible for one person alone." Vicente responded mildly as Kita walked over to the training weapon rack and placed her dagger onto it, before grabbing rag to wipe the sweat beading on her forehead.

The two Breton women followed the vampire to his office, and settled themselves comfortably. Considering Kita's status as a rookie and Tessa's own prolonged absence, it was safe for her to assume that it would be an easy enough contract.

"Your marks are Gaston Tussaud, Captain of the Pirate ship _Marie Elena_, and Patience Casemoor."

"From _the_ Casemoors?" Kita asked somewhat awed.

"Ermm what am I missing?" Having been gone for 53 years, many of the names which had meanings to those around her, held none for her.

"It's only _the _most important Politician Family in the Imperial City. If you want to do anything in the City, you practically can't get past doing business with them." Tessa nodded at the somewhat awed explanation from the slight Breton sitting next to her.

"And what would a pirate have to do with a... politician?" She asked somewhat uncertainly.

"Politician's wife." Vicente corrected with a gleam of fangs. "It seems dearest Patience has none for her husband and sought comfort and thrill in the arms of another. She married into the Casemoor family and resents being trapped into a golden cage. How she ended up with Tussaud, we're not quite sure. But the marks should be easy enough."

"Any particulars on the targets?" Tessa asked with the professionalism of two years of active duty, before her disappearance.

"Only that the_ Elena Marie_ is due to set sails at the end of the week, but it is currently moored in the Waterfront district. Nothing on the Casemoors. You will have to scout around."

Both women rose and turned to leave. "Tessa." Vicente interrupted the black haired Breton's movement in mid motion. "A word with you?"

He waited until Tessa had settled back in her seat, and Kita had left to the dormitories.

"It's her first contract." He began without preamble, before he could continue, Tessa raised a hand to stop him.

"I'll look out for her. You know I always do." She answered softly, then rose to leave.

"Look out for yourself as well." His voice followed her out of the room quietly.


	5. Chapter 4

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Author's Note**: I'd planned on posting this yesterday, but the after effects of a vodka overindulgence made me look more like a zombie than anything else. Made work kind of hard. ;) Oh well. It'll teach me to pay better attention to what I'm drinking when Mark hands me drinks.

**Again thank you to my lovely readers!**

**Chapter 4**

_Give me a little bit of security_

_in a world in which nothing seems secure._

Clouds covered the sky as Tessa stood in the shadows of a small side alley, watching her mark's house. She could just walk in without so much as a problem – except for the lively party raging over the whole of the ground floor. It wouldn't do for her to be caught. That and she had already found a better means of entrance. The midnight stench of the alley – someone had dumped rotten oranges in a barrel near where she stood – found her watching more to memorize the schedule than to observe her point of entry.

"You are a difficult woman to find, Tessa." Surprised, she whirled around, a low growl escaping her as she caught sight of the hooded figure standing a few paces away from her.

"What do you want?" Her voice was sharp, but remained low. It wouldn't do for the guards to spot her. The answering laugh grated on her nerves. She longed for nothing more than to kill him where he stood.

"Is this the way to greet your puppet master?" He asked, the voice cloyingly sweet like over honeyed mead.

"Just tell me your business and be on your way." She resented his position. Resented his very existence.

"Tsk tsk tsk. Such rudeness." She was positively certain that he would wear a wide grin in the shadow of the hood. A full teethed, gleaming, beaming smile. The kind of smile that demanded a fist to complement it. "The council has decided that Lucien Lachance must die. His welcome of three of our agents cannot be allowed to pass unpunished."

The blood froze in Tessa's veins. Of all the things she had expected. Of all the commands she had thought would come, this was not it. Smiling grimly, she stepped closer to the mer.

"Then you are a fool. I kill him, they will immediately know it was I." She was grasping at straws, and she knew that.

"Then be creative. We know you can be." Came the honey answer.

"Is your personal grievance against him so great that you would risk my position? It is precarious enough as it is right now." She was arguing not for the sake of the Speaker she now served, but rather for what was left of the relationship between her and Vicente. Her puppet master need not know that.

"Are you rejecting a direct command?" The tone of his voice had dropped they honeyed feel, to resemble something similar to steel – cold, hard, unyielding. Tessa sighed, shaking her head.

"No." She whispered softly. "But I will need time."

"Time," he answered with a laugh, "Is something with have an unlimited amount of. We will wait, and watch." With his last words, he faded back into the shadows of the small alley, leaving Tessa rattled. _Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it..._ the words ran through her mind like a mantra as she threw her mark's house one last look. She knew enough about the Casemoors now to plan her approach. But the Puppet Master could have picked a better time to throw her mind into turmoil. She couldn't kill Lucien. It was the one thing she was certain would turn Vicente away from her for good. Somehow, she had the nagging feeling, the bastard knew that.

_Sithis. I'm beginning to think I might just hate you._

~V~

Tessa sat in a corner of Luther Broad's Boarding house waiting for Kita to arrive. The deep sense of unease which had settled around her was still clinging to her as she sipped her wine. A pang of pain slid through her as she thought of her family. Of Nalia's carefree smile. Katree's soft laughter. Izza's sweet tooth. Magork's mothering ways. Rabbit's mischief. Kat's harsh lessons. They were dead. But the memory and what it represented still lived within her soul. It wouldn't be only Vicente who would turn from her, probably trying to kill her in the slowest, most painful manner he knew, but also the faces in her memories.

Swallowing hard, she stared into her wine, recalling her introduction to the Brotherhood. The easy, carefree way in which they had all welcomed her.

Suddenly smiling into the depths of her wine, Tessa wondered how Kita's first weeks had gone. Had she enjoyed them as much as she had? The others had trained her, built up her morale, praised her for her progress. She had been the generally accepted little sister that needed an extra eye. Of all those present, she had trouble only with Marina and Kat. The latter of the two was easy enough to ignore, she had rarely been present in those first weeks. Marina, not so much. They have eventually arrived at a status quo: the Imperial would simply ignore her and Tessa would ask no questions beyond those needed for the contracts.

Her greatest joy had come from discovering a book on spellcrafting in the library. It had been an obviously old book, much used and abused. The kind of book not normally found outside of the Arcane University. They – the mages that is – did not want just anyone to have the knowledge to craft any spell desired. How the book had arrived in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary library, she didn't know. Her discovery of it, had led to quite a few interesting situations of Rabbit's doing.

"_What...?!" The question interrupted her concentration and she lost her place on the page. She was sitting cross legged in front of the shelf where she had taken the book down. Heaps of parchments scribbled full of notes laid arrayed around her. It was a habit she had developed while traveling around the different Mage's guild halls. When she was interested in a book, she wouldn't bother going very far, the floor was good enough to sit on, and it gave her a larger surface to spread her papers out around her. She always received the same reaction. With a smile she looked up at Rabbit, who was busy shaking his head in disbelief. _

"_I l-li-like spells." She answered his expression as cheekily as possible when stuttering. He laughed and joined her on the floor._

"_Spellmaking?" He asked a moment later once he'd settled down and had glanced over her notes. She nodded with a sloppy grin. "Useful. Think you could make me a spell?" He asked, a mischievous look slanting in his eyes. "nothing big... just something to get even with Nalia." _

"_T-tell me." And he did. She had to agree that it was the perfect prank spell. "I'll s-see w-wh-what I c-can d-do." _

"_Excellent!" the maniac grin he gave her while not reassuring, was welcomed none the less. "Marina asked me to teach you some marksmanship. If you get me that spell, I'll turn you into a master marksman." _

"_Y-you h-have hi-high h-hopes for me." she answered somewhat sheepishly. "C-can I ask..." She waved her hand to finish the sentence. Indicating the something. He reached over and ruffled her hair, earning him a slap on the hand._

"_Sure Sister!"_

"_y-y-your name?" She was not about to say it out loud. Too many things she could stumble over. _

"_Rabbit?" She nodded._

"_heheheh. It's a running joke from when I was a child. I'd freeze up like a rabbit caught in a light beam when ever I was found doing something I shouldn't be. And somehow... it stuck."_

"_M-must ha-have b-b-been often." She said with a twinkle, correctly understanding the undertone of his words. He nodded with a grin, before grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze. _

_  
"Take care little sister. I'll be back in a few days and we'll see what we can do about your lacking marksman skills." She nodded and the moment he was gone, lost herself in the book again, this time with a very precise idea in head. As Rabbit had said, the spell he wanted was a very simple spell indeed. But no self-respecting spellcrafter would ever consider creating such a spell, not even as practice. Well, She wasn't exactly a self-respecting spellcrafter. Nor did she think a spell for a prank beneath herself. So that by the time Magork came to drag her – semi-literally – to lunch about an hour after lunch, she had a rough sketch on how to make the spell. She quickly gathered her notes and the book, and allowed herself to be pulled to the kitchen. Scribbling like mad all the while she ate._

With a grin, Tessa looked up from her wine, the memory still vivid in her mind. Scanning around, she realized that Kita still hadn't arrived. Shrugging off the beginnings of worry, she turned her gaze back to her wine. The younger woman was not yet over late. And she needed the distraction of pleasant memories.

What, with time as a buffer, she enjoyed remembering the most, were the late evening sessions with Vicente, working on her stutter. She still thought of that first meeting with a lopsided grin. He hadn't so much taught her how to speak properly, only pointed out she was an idiot, without really saying the word itself.

_The same night as her conversation with Rabbit, Tessa reported to Vicente's office, as she had been told to do. A weary "come in" echoed faintly out of the room when she knocked, and she carefully pushed the door open just enough for her to slip in. Old habits die hard, or so they say._

"_Ah, it's you." He said, looking up from his desk. He quickly finished what he had been writing, blotted the paper to remove the excess ink, before folding it neatly and pushing it into an envelop. Once he had sealed it, he looked up at her again, silently studying her. She began to fidget. With a smile he waved a hand for her to sit down. It didn't make her stop fidgeting, truth be told. She felt like a mouse caught in a trap, the cat lazily stretching in front of her. _

"_You didn't always stutter, did you?" He finally asked. She opened her mouth to speak but he immediately interrupted. "No. Don't answer that. Not yet. Izza and Nalia were correct." She just nodded, and left it at that. He stood and came to stand behind her. She tried to twist her head to look at him, but a cool hand gently pushed her head to look forward again. From the rustle of his clothes, She suspected he had knelt down. The hand on her cheek slipped down to her throat, the other settled on her stomach, at roughly the height of her diaphragm. She held my breath._

"_You may continue breathing you know." He said with an amused tone in his voice. "I would like you to cast a spell which requires vocal commands." Startled she nodded, picking her brain for one such spell. Burden. Though she had become competent enough that she wouldn't need to mumble the arcane symbols, she could still do it. She focused her attention on the letter he had finished preparing when she walked in, and cast burden on it. _

"_Good. Now answer my question from earlier." _

"_huh...?" She couldn't remember the question. _

"_you didn't always stutter, did you?" He repeated softly, with just a hint of laughter in the tone of his voice._

"_N-no. I-it st-tart-ted aft-t-ter father d-d-died." She finally managed to stutter out. Seemingly satisfied, She heard him rise again, his hands slowly slipping from her. He pulled a chair up to her side, and sat down, foregoing his place at the other side of the desk. She was not here as a subordinate receiving orders, but as a child in need of help. Or at least, that's how she perceived it._

"_When you speak the arcane symbols for the spells, you are relaxed. There's not a muscle in your body which twitches or bundles up. It is as natural to you as breathing." She nodded, it is roughly what it felt like for her. The arcane language had always been a source of comfort to her, even before her father had died. "But, when you speak normally, you stiffen up, and forget how to breath naturally, making both that and the speech you are attempting come out as a stumbled, garbled mess." She blinked rather owlishly. It was almost word for word what her first instructor had told her about spellcasting, back before father had died._

"_I c-c..." She gave up on the words, frowning to herself. She had been about 9 when she'd had her first lesson in spell casting. That first spell had been a simple magical light spell. Nothing difficult or confusing about it. But she hadn't been able to speak the symbols correctly, because she had been frightened. So Ria had taught her some relaxation exercises. _Picture the symbol, Tessa. Imagine it in its entirety. Accept it as a complete entity, not as something you must dissect into its individual parts. Then inhale. When you exhale, you release the symbol together with your breath._ She had tried it again a few times after that, and slowly, she gained enough mastery over herself, to cast the spell without the added concentration. _

_A cool hand on her sleeve made her realize that she had a) closed her eyes, and b) completely forgotten about Vicente. She had known all along what She needed to do to make her speech more fluently, but it had taken someone to point it out to her. she again closed her eyes, and pictured the sentence she wished to speak._

"_It... was... the other ... way around..." She had to stop a moment and catch a breath. She was exhausted just from speaking those few words clearly. Clenching her teeth, She continued. "when I was... learning ... spell cast-t-ting." A whole sentence... and only one word stuttered. The benign look on Vicente's face made her glow with pleasure at her small achievement._

_Two hours later, she was ready to kill him. Knowing what she had to do, and actually doing it, were two different things. And he was insisting that she practice, again and again and again. By the time he finally allowed her to stop, she just returned to the dormitories, and collapsed on her bed – a yellow blanket with vivid blue patches now covering it, courtesy of Nalia - clothes and all, falling asleep almost before her head hit the pillow, a headache the size of Mundus on her shoulders._

"Nirn to Tessa." An amused voice broke her from her memories. Blinking, she looked up to find Kita standing in front of her, a bottle of Tamika's wine in one hand, a small satchel in the other.

"Oh... sorry..." Tessa answered abashedly.

"Napping on the job. What a good role model you are." With a grin, Kita indicated they should retire to their room. Seeing her goblet was empty, Tessa nodded and stood, following the younger Breton – younger but taller. Which, to Tessa, was pathetically unfair. Sometimes she really hated being short.

Once they had settled onto their respective bed, a goblet of wine each and some bred and cheese shared between the two, Kita let out a long sigh of what could only be relief.

"I am going to take pleasure in making Tussaud die." Kita finally mumbled around her cheese.

"That bad?" Upon arriving, they had agreed that Kita would remove the Pirate, and Tessa the politician's wife, giving the younger of the two the seemingly harder half of the contract. To the young woman's glee, as Tessa had noticed.

"He's a swine." Kita said between two bites of her food. "Drinking, whoring, and fighting are only his most endearing qualities."

"Better than simpering, stupid, and silly." was Tessa's prompt reply, allowing both a giggle before they continued.

"There's a little balcony on the stern of the ship. From what I understand it leads to the Captain's cabin. From what I see, it's my best place of entry – easier to time than to allow myself to be hauled on board with the merchandise and having to creep my way up to the cabin."

"mmmmhmmm" Tessa leaned back against the wall behind her. "Do you have an idea of his schedule?"

"Well, he normally goes to sleep at around 1 in the morning. I waited around until 2 both nights, and there was nothing. Even the 'rat on duty was dozing." She added with a smirk.

"Then I would say 2 is our time. Patience retires around midnight. I can get to her from a rear balcony which no mortal could get to... if said fool was climbing up."

"err?" Kita asked rather eloquently.

"I found a few loose bricks on one of the houses facing the inward walls, near the gate to the Palace, on the same house block as the Casemoors' own residence. From there I can slip over to the roof and let myself fall down. It is a third story balcony over looking the back alley."

"Meaning a short drop." Kita grinned and twirled her fingers in a manner say 'that's an easy one.'

"How are you going to reach the captain's balcony?" Grinning almost maniacally, Kita pulled a small potion out of her pouch.

"I did some shopping. The alchemist was kind enough to brew up the potion I needed after I explained that I had to help my father clean the roof's gutters, and because of the shrubbery around the house, it was rather difficult to place a ladder..." Tessa snickered as the younger woman's voice trailed off. People were so easily influenced by the innocent expression on the girl's face. Wide eyes sparkling with nearly shed tears, a slight flush of embarrassment, a quirk of the lips which quivered as if threatening tears of despair, while at the same time hinting at the possibility of a smile. The tousled brown hair and baby blue eyes helped as well, Tessa was certain.

"Good. I'll need about an hour to get into place. The house is in the Temple district. My only problem will be the husband. Though he might sleep in another room, he doesn't usually go to bed until well past midnight, entertaining guests nearly every night."

"To be a politician." came the almost disgusted answer. "You'll risk it?"

"He can't bother me if he can't see me." Tessa answered with a dark look in her eyes. It was a momentary lapse in the façade which hid the blackened part of her soul.

~V~

Tessa stood hidden in the doorway of the house she would climb, watching the guards change shift. Once the soft clank of the guard walking past her had faded in the distance, she double checked that her chameleon spell held, and grabbed the studded gloves from their place hanging at her belt. The fine spikes in the palm of the glove would give her an easier time scaling the nearly smooth surface of the house. Neither Masser nor Secunda cast light onto the wall she was scaling, making her as close to invisible as if she had cast invisibility and not chameleon.

Reaching up, she took a hold of the first of the hand holds she had memorized in the bright afternoon sun. About half way up, a piece of the plaster loosened and, to her adrenaline sensitive hears, crashed to the ground several meters below her. The sweat from the exertion of climbing, began to trickle down her back and face as she held her breath. When no sound of guardsman's feet clanking up to the spot echoed across the deserted alley way, she exhaled in relief. A gesture she repeated once she lay on top of the roof. Looking up at the sky and the position of the constellations, she realized that it had taken her far more time to reach this place than anticipated – her little slip up be damned.

Glancing around quickly, she took the risk of jogging the length of the building, first towards the gate leading to the Talos Plaza District, then south towards the Waterfront tunnel gate, and finally almost all the way back towards were she came from, just on the other side of the U shaped building.

"_Sithis be my guide." _She murmured softly to herself, as she lowered herself over the edge of the flat roof straight above the small balcony. Before working on the lock, she slipped her ring of crawling onto her finger. It had been amongst the possessions Vicente returned to her, causing a small grin on her face. The permanent life detection and night eye enchantment freed the magical resources she would otherwise need to maintain them.

Anticipation coursing through her veins, she inserted the lockpick into the small key slot. The lock itself was simple – unlike the lock on the main door to the house. Why have a state of the art lock on a balcony which, under normal circumstances, could not be reached? The low thump of the tumblers sliding home was music to her ears. Carefully she slid the door open, her blue tinted vision sliding over the room – a small parlor form the looks of it. Chairs on spindly legs, a low bookcase running the width of the room, and a low table sitting squatted in the middle of the room as a four-legged spider were the essential of the furnishings. Once inside the house, she let her life detect gaze travel over the whole of the inside of the house. Several figures – almost a dozen if she counted correctly, were currently within the premises. Only one on her own floor.

Casemoor was entertaining, and his wife sleeping. Her stride steadily slow, she crept towards the door, wincing as she heard the tell-tale sign of a creak once she pulled at the unlocked but closed door. Stopping the movement, she grinned and cast a feather spell on the door. Who ever said alteration was useless, had never attempted to open a door which did not want to be opened. With the door weighting next to nil, the hinges made not a sound when she again tried it.

Inching forward along the corridor to the room at the very end where she had spotted the sleeping figure – it was horizontal so it could only be sleeping – she prepared a silence spell in her off hand, her dagger at ready on her tight. She never attached it to her belt, preferring the lower reach of the leg holster it had come with. It lay snuggly against the dark leather of her shrouded armor, silently begging her to be allowed to taste blood. In all the years since she had received it, it had not once left her side willingly. Even during the 53 years of absence, it had been with her, a comforting weight and a memory of what she had to fight for: family. The ebony still gleamed as if it attempted to absorb any light glinting over its smooth, sharp surface.

The door to Patience's bedroom gave Tessa no problems. It was neither locked, nor did it breath the tell-tale signs of a creak when she began pushing it open. The parlor obviously had little use.

Her mark lay in bed, with her mousy brown hair spread out around her like a courtesan's fading fan. The wan face seeming paler still by the exclusively white bedding she lay on. What Tussaud found in such an unremarkable woman, Tessa couldn't even begin to guess, but she knew better than to dismiss her out of her. Had she herself not always bemoaned her own rather mundane appearance?

The life detect enchantment flickered with every beat of the woman's heart – slow, steady. She was in a deep sleep, untroubled by those things which might go bump in the night. Without a hiss, she drew her silent and constant companion from its sheath – the felt lining the tough leather casing muffling any sound she might have made. Then she raised her off hand and placed it a hand's breath from her victim's face, feeling the soft touch of the steady breath. With a soundless whisper, she articulated the arcane symbol for the spell.

Patience did not even twitch as the spell hit her. She would not be screaming any time soon should she awaken. Then, with one clean swipe of her blade, Tessa cut through the jugular veins on the pale throat, watching with expressionless face as her victim twitched, the blood leaving her body in even little sprays. For an instant, brown eyes opened and attempted to focus on the surrounding. But the blood loss from a throat wound severing the blood vessels was so fast, that she again lost consciousness, any scream she might have made slipping out of her into the puddle of blood now staining the pristine white sheets.

It was as the heart beat the last, that the hairs on the back of Tessa's neck stood at attention. A faint echo of a spell hit her as it traveled away from the body, and with dread she realized just exactly what kind of spell it was. It was similar to the spells she used to ward the doors and windows when she stayed at inns, waking the caster the moment the ordinary state is disturbed.

The spells seemed to have been keyed to the victim's life. The moment the heart ceased to beat, it would alert the owner of changed nature of what it was keeping guard over. Glancing down, she could see the life forces of those on the ground floor begin to scramble, heading for the stairs going up.

Without thinking, Tessa jumped from her crouch, and rushed back down the corridor, passing the stairwell up, and headed into the back parlor she had used as entrance. Closing the door behind her with as little noise as possible, she ran to the glass door, pulling the curtains as closed as she could behind her, before she closed the door itself behind her.

By then she could hear the pounding of feet on the carpet covered steps leading up to this floor. It would not take them long now to reach Patience. Would they assume she was still on the premises? If so, she had time to climb. If not, then they would come pounding to the only place with a practicable mean of exit: the parlor balcony.

Not thinking, she vaulted herself over the balustrade, her fingers catching the floor end of the balcony. Just as the door above her opened with a crash, she dropped herself the two stories to the grass and rock covered ground. Her left foot slipped on a stone as she went sprawling from the impact, her chameleon spell shaking lose.

"There he is! He jumped out the window!" A voice shouted from above her. Teeth clenched in pain, she struggled to her feet, her ankle protesting madly in the tight confine of her boot. Not bothering to check whether it was broken or not, she ran lazily out of the alley towards the Waterfront Tunnel Gate. Just as she turned the corner, the twank of an arrow resounded through the air sending her stumbling, and her shoulder burned where it her. Without thinking, she reached back and pulled the arrow out of her shoulder. Gritting her teeth together, she ran on with a steady limp.

Just as the gate came into sight, she clenched her teeth and hissed out the arcana for the chameleon spell. The guards where busy looking towards the source of the commotion, not seeing the faint haze of a sloppy chameleon.

Not bothering to check if Kita had successfully fulfilled her side of the contract, Kita dove into the murky harbor water, and began swimming towards Weye, on the other side of Lake Rumare. Her leg throbbed painfully with each stroke, her shoulder burning from the foul harbor water, and she prayed to whatever god might be listening – she didn't really care which as long as he listened – that no slaughterfish would see her as an appropriate late night snack.

~V~

Tessa was in a foul mood and far beyond conscious pain when she finally crawled out of the cold lake water underneath the bridge leading onto the island upon which was built the Imperial City, shivering in pain and with the beginnings of something more than the release of adrenaline.

"What in the name of Sithis happened to you?" Kita exclaimed as she rushed forward to help Tessa from the surf.

"The bastards were expecting me." She answered through gritted teeth as Kita threw a wide cloak over the shivering figure. "Had to jump from a balcony. Caught an arrow."

"Let's get you changed and then get ourselves out of here." They had left their mounts at the inn just over the bridge from the Imperial City. Teeth chattering, and leaning heavily on Kita, it was still a struggle for Tessa to cross the few meters of ground to where their mounts waiting for them. Now that the adrenaline rush had subsided, she felt more dead than alive. They could see the torches of the Imperial guards searching the Waterfront sparkle in the distance as they struggled up the small incline to the inn and their horses. By the time the guatds would realize that the assassin had swum the lake, they would be long gone.


	6. Chapter 5

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Author's Note**: Urg. I had planned on giving you this chapter earlier (as in yesterday) but between life, work, studies, and an annoying stomach flu, I just couldn't manage. I just worked through the past two hours to try and get this into publishable shape. Proofreading is one of those things I HATE. I loath it with a passion which is seconded only by my passion for a certain sharp toothed Vampire. I hope it came out well enough.

**Chapter 5**

_Give me, in these fast times,_

_something which remains standing still._

"How is she?" The calmly asked question cut through the haze surrounding her mind as a sharp blade through flesh. These words were her first conscious reality. Beyond that – nothing. Straining her mind, she finally managed to tell that she lay on a bed. _Not mine_. A voice whispered in the back of her mind. Causing her to wonder how she knew. _It's the smell._ Came the prompt answer. Well, that settled that. She was in a bed not her own because of the smell. The voice in the back of her head sometimes had its own brand of humor not fully comprehensible to the rest of her mind.

She shrugged mentally and dragged in a long breath, only to scream in pain. Well, perhaps not scream. No sound came from her mouth as the pain in her body hit her conscious mind. She couldn't articulate a sound appropriate enough for the sudden appearance of pain.

A cool hand settled onto her forehead.

"Shhhh Tes. Don't move, you've been badly wounded." Following the softly spoken instruction, she closed her mind's eyes and attempted to piece together the why and the how. A fall from a balcony. An arrow. A swim through cold water. Was that all? Somehow it seemed incongruous with the amount of pain she was feeling.

The cool hand left her forehead, only to be replaced by a warmer one. "Rest" Lucien's voice commanded her. "We will question you soon enough."

As Lucien straightened from his position after having whispered into the near delirious Tessa's ear, he turned to face Vicente. They had again placed her in the vampire's room, allowing for better control of the patient. Her fever still ran high, the leg sprained badly. Bruising began to show her on her chest. And the arrow wound had turned a putrid white with the infection collected in the water of Lake Rumare. Lucien had only just arrived to find the Sanctuary in an upheaval over the matter. Vicente had summarized the situation succinctly. There hadn't been much to tell, as Kita could only repeat what Tessa had told her, and Tessa was by far too ill to awaken. Lucien's hand lingered on her forehead.

"Who could be foolish enough to attempt tricking the brotherhood?" He asked darkly.

"Adamus Phillida, perhaps?" Vicente asked, having taken a parchment from a drawer of his dresser, and a quill.

"He would be strutting around boasting about nearly catching an assassin." A smile quirked Lucien's lips thinking about it.

"Not if he intentionally used Patience as bait. How would he explain that?" Vicente asked as he scribbled the ideas down onto the parchment. They would need checking in the morning.

"True enough." Lucien settled down in a chair they had placed at Tessa's bedside, his hand dropping from its previous resting place. He leaned forward and studied her face. For a moment he watched her ragged breathing as she struggled to force air in and out of her bruised lungs. "Do you keep up with Imperial City politics?"

Vicente opened his mouth to answer, fangs gleaming in the low candle light, before he snapped it shut again. "Why didn't I think of that?" He asked almost rhetorically. "Casemoor is pushing for a reform of the Legion. He claims that they are bustling, bumbling idiots, or something to that effect. Catching an assassin single handedly, would have given him quite a few arguments."

"Just as the assassination of his wife will." Lucien nodded in agreement.

"I wouldn't be surprised to hear that he and Phillida are in league."

"I'll have the situation investigated." In silence, they both mused upon the idea.

"There could also be... another explanation." Vicente finally spoke into the silence.

"The traitor." Lucien agreed grimly, the expression on his face unchanging. Eventually, he stood and walked to the door on silent feet, taking the parchment with the scribbled thoughts hanging listlessly in Vicente's hand. The vampire seemed lost in thoughts as he watched the uneven rise and fall of Tessa's chest. A scowl marring his features, Lucien opened the door and stepped through silently.

"Kita?" He asked softly when he found the Breton murderer sitting slumped against the wall next to the door. He had almost stumbled over her when he turned to head to his own office to send out the needed orders. At the sound of his voice, she jumped slightly, as one awakened from a light doze, before scrambling to her feet.

"Is...is she going to be okay?" She asked, a look of guilt in her eyes. He nodded and grabbed her arm, leading her away from the door towards his office.

"Am... Am I in trouble?" Kita swallowed hard as she sat down on the chair indicated by a wave of Lucien's hand once they were in his office. The Speaker turned around to watch her fidget. Her brown hair was pulled back in a short braid, a few strands straggling loosely around her heart shaped face. With her right hand, she twirled some of these strands between her fingers in an incessant rhythm of unease. She kept her gaze averted from Lucien's, staring into the wall over his shoulder, while the muscles in her legs tightened in an attempt to keep her from running out of the room.

"Should you be?" He asked her mildly. Though it amused him how rattled the Breton was, he was not cruel to his own family members, not when they were as obviously worried as this dark sister was. "No." he finally said, taking pity on her in a way his enemies would not give him credit for. He softened his voice, reaching over to place a warm hand onto her shoulder. "Neither of you could have known about the trap."

"I... I'm... it should have been me." She finally struggled to articulate.

"Then we would not be worried about a wounded sister, but about a dead one." He answered firmly. The almost harsh words snapped her mouth shut, and ignited a sparkle of anger in the depth of the crystal clear blue eyes. Lucien watched, hiding his amusement behind a façade of blandness, as she bit her tongue to keep from snapping at him.

"Do not forget," he forestalled any comment, "That, regardless of the years she was absent, Tessa has far more experience in these things than you do. She gave you what you both considered to be the harder part of the assignment as a matter of course to help you train and improve. No one could have foreseen the consequences."

A blush spreading over the pale features, Kita nodded. "I..." she began her apology, only to be waved to silence.

"Tell me what you know of Tessa's part of the contract." Lucien commanded, sitting down with a fresh parchment, the one Vicente had used laying to one side on his desk, on a pile of other documents. Where Vicente's desk was clean enough to eat from, Lucien's desk would need several years of excavation work to even find the surface – if such a thing even existed.

Hesitantly, Kita began, outlining what she knew of Tessa's plan. Repeating the words Tessa had told her. In a matter of minutes, she had finished, remembering nothing else which she could add. Accepting the silent, nodded dismissal, she fled from the room, her Speaker's eyes following her thoughtfully, then fixing on the closed door long after Kita had passed through.

~V~

"Vee?" Tessa had awoken several moments prior, struggling yet again with the surroundings she found herself in. It took her a moment to recognized the room with the screen and candle flickering softly behind it, throwing shadows on the figure sitting on the chair at her side. The faint light hinted at morose thoughts and irritation. It revealed lines on the face, stiff and unyielding; the blood red eyes silently staring at the wall above her head. The sound of her voice seemed to startled him.

"You're awake." A hand followed the words, resting against her forehead.

"Yeah." she agreed softly. "How long?" She asked.

"Three days. You took quite a bit of damage, and the fever did not help. On top of the still lingering weakness from my exuberant welcome back." A sigh was his answer as he watched her eyes flutter closed again.

"They were expecting an assassin." She finally said, her eyes opening again and focusing on his face.

"What can you tell me?"

"They..." her voice trailing off, she considered her words. "They had prepared the mark with a spell. It would activate only once her heart stopped beating, signaling death. I doubt they expected me to get that far." a grim smile lit her features in the half gloom of the room.

"It seems they were expecting a beginner. One who would use the front door, and not a third floor balcony." A chuckle broke from Tessa, before she winced in pain at the burning sensation in her lungs.

"Should it not have been a mission for a beginner?" She asked blandly once she had caught her breath again.

"That it should... that it should." Tessa reached out a hand to Vicente, allowing it to feebly travel along the surface of the red covers surrounding her. He grasped it between his own.

"Have you rested at all?" A note of concern had crept into Tessa's voice as she watched the weary lines on the vampire's face.

"A few hours." A few hours per day? Or a few hours in the last three days? Tessa wondered, but did not ask. It would serve nothing. The vampire might not need quite so much sleep as others, but he still needed rest.

"Come." She tugged weakly on the hands holding hers, a small smile lighting her features as surprise crossed his own features. Shaking his head softly, he slipped his shirt over his head, and slipped besides her under the covers, gently shifting her around as he did so. Soon, her head rested against his shoulder as sleep claimed her again, a cool arm slipped around her waist, her long black hair tangling across his chest.

~V~

My first weeks in the Sanctuary passed uneventfully as I settled into a routine of training and studying. The occasional easy contract interrupting the schedule I had created for myself – slip-into-the-bedroom-in-the-middle-of-the-night type contract which did not need any serious amount of planing. It neither brought me a lot of fame, nor a lot of coins. But fame I did not want, and coins I had plenty. I became the healer of the sanctuary when, a week after my arrival, I happened to heal a bone sprained in a moment of inattention. Valen had sung my praise so loudly that I swear I heard Kat gag. Not that the continually angry Khajiit liked me. My stutter was still apparent, especially when I was tiered, but the intensive training I received – and the fact that people would _not_ allow me to just stay silent – was slowly beginning to show its effects. All in all, I would call those several weeks the best in my life.

It was four months, almost to the day, that my life changed again rather abruptly. I had gone to do the shopping for the Sanctuary, Katree having come down with a cold beyond the means of the simple concoction of mandrake root I had learned to make, forcing her to bed against her will. I knew that Nords were foul tempered. Brunhilde and Olfgar had taught me well enough what it was to be a Nord. An ill Nord was an entirely different matter.

"Can I help you?" A polite voice spoke behind me, breaking me out of my musings as I stood before the main altar in the chapel of Arkay. I turned to see an old Imperial dressed in a deep blue cassock and white surplice standing behind me. It was mid morning, and few others had ventured into the chapel. Those who had, had done so mostly to quickly ask for a blessing at one of the little side altars, before they hurried on with their business. I was the only one who lingered, and I stood before the altar, feeling somewhat lost.

"Yes F-father," I answered politely, curtsying slightly. "One of my sisters is ill, and I was h-hoping I could learn a minor h-healing spell for d-diseases." He raised on eyebrow, scanning my simple, but clean clothes – the patches for mending attached so as to be nearly invisible - before indicating I should follow him towards the undercroft. The priest living quarters as well as the infirmary were located on a half floor which extended out from the chapel, probably undermining most of the square. I idly wondered if the walls from the infirmary adjoined the Sanctuary walls in any way.

"Do potions not help?" He asked as he led me into the infirmary. Only a little boy with swamp fever lay twisting and moaning in one corner. Those who could afford it, sent their sick to be cured here at the chapel. The poor came only to pray that one of the Nine would take mercy on their lot and cure their ill. The clothes I had worn had been specifically chosen for this visit. They showed poverty, but not crippling poverty. They indicated a certain pride in life, and a hint of someone who would not accept charity. It was my persona in Cheydinhal, the wicker basket on my arm added to this: I had purposefully broken it in places, and woven new reeds into the broken patches to give it a used and loved touch.

"We have not t-the money for s-stronger potions, Father." I answered meekly, keeping my head bowed somewhat in a clumsy show of respect.

"Ah, I see. With a minor spell you could save the money for potions in the long run." He answered with a knowing smile. I simply nodded and gladly accepted the seat he was offering in the small infirmary office. My basket settled on the ground at my feet. Then I clasped my hands on my lap, as if from embarrassment. "I will need to test your spell knowledge. I don't want to sell you a spell you can't use." Though what remained of his hair had faded to white long ago, his green eyes still shone with energy and vitality.

"I have a m-minor knowled-dge of rest-toration Magicka." I answered, holding out my hand palm up as required for the testing. It was a simple enough procedure. He laid his own onto it, before focusing Magicka onto my skin, listening intently for the reaction.

"Minor knowledge you say?" He asked, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. He probably hadn't expected a notorious stutterer to have that level of spell competence. "You know more than the basics. I suspect you are quite adept at healing broken bones, yes?" I nodded assent. "Though the more advanced disease healing spell is a bit more expansive," I kept my eyes down cast at this, giving him the impression of embarrassment again, "you are more than capable of casting it."

"ho-how m-much?" I asked, purposefully keeping the stutter in my voice.

"230 Septims." He answered mildly, gouging my reaction. I swallow hard, pretending trouble at the steep price. Then, slowly, I reached for a small purse which showed no signs of use. I had kept it purposefully light – the Sanctuary could easily afford to pay far more for a spell – my own personal stores of septims would more than suffice as well. But I had a role to play. I counted out the 200 septims in it - the entire content - before I reached for the second purse, battered from too much use. The leather repaired over and over and over again, until you could only guess at the original color. From this one I began to count out the 30 pieces missing.

A gnarled hand stopped my movements. Surprised I looked up.

"Put that purse away child. You are obviously putting every last septim you and your family gathered to buy this spell. You needn't worry about the rest." I let my pale features flush, looking away from his eyes. He squeezed my hand in a reassuring gesture, and finally, having allowed for the appropriate amount of time to pass, I nodded in thanks.

Once the money was safely locked away in the infirmary safe box, he taught me the arcane symbols for the spell, having me practice on the little boy still present. The parents of the child didn't have the money to pay for a magicka healing, only for the care of the child. I smiled a bit grimly to myself when I knew the priest wasn't watching me. Nirn was not a kind place to those without money.

It was with a sense of relief that I stepped out of the Chapel into the bright mid morning sun. A true, pure cloudless sky spanned the heavens above, as if smiling complacently at those working endlessly under her auspicious eyes.

_There you go again..._ The little voice in the back of my head snorted at me. And for once I had to agree. I was allowing my mind to slip into what said voice called 'poetic mode.' It was not meant as a compliment.

I turned left, and headed for the small bridge behind the Chapel, to reach shop street. It was a rather lazy day for me, and I stopped at the bridge to stare down into the reflections in the water: the quavery outline of the Chapel, the grasses and trees framing the little brook. Cheydinhal was a quaint and charming city – drawing one's soul to wax poetic. _Not again..._ With a smile I brushed the voice away, showing it back into its room, closing the door, and locking it. The day was too beautiful to resist. The kind of mid winter day that one should enjoy. I was pretty sure that we would have snow again soon. The air held that crisp clean taste of snow. You know the smell that settles on the air not long before it snows, a unique feeling that I can never truly explain in words.

"Tessa?!?!?" The voice cutting through the mid morning, made me cringe. Of all the people, in all the places, why _her_? I turned around, an automatic smile on my lips as I faced my aunt Trisha. I was related to her through my mother, and wished I wasn't. Aunt Trisha was loud – both in voice and manner of dress. Today, she was wearing a bright orange winter dress, green boots from what I could tell, and an purple jacket. The mundane black hair prevalent on my mother's side of the family had been charmed red – shining red - clashing almost nauseatingly with the rest of her. My plain dark brown dress with the beige linen shirt underneath and warm wine red shawl Izza had given me contrasted painfully to her. A part of me could not believe we were even distantly related. Before I could make a move to avoid her, she had me crushed in a rip bruising hug.

"Dear child! We were so worried about you! We looked positively _everywhere_." I tried to smile, but all I could manage was a quick upward quirk of my lips, which in no way managed to take enough of a hold of my lips to reach my eyes.

"Aunt T-trisha." I said, calmly, but without emotion.

"We can't have you living here, all alone. No, we can't have that. You're coming back to Leyawiin with me. Sonia and Patrick and Mark are all waiting for you. We all missed you so much." Again I was crushed into a hug as she gushed the words at me. Sithis claim you before long. I struggled a little to be released from the steel embrace, and took a step back.

"I'm not coming back." I answered, speaking very softly; a tone of voice which could be called almost deadly in its stillness. Trisha's eyes opened as my normally limpid, expressionless eyes turned hard, the lines of my mouth settling into a grim line, every muscle in my body taunt.

"B-but..." She stuttered out, and I smirked. For once in my life, the roles were reversed. Instead of stuttering and having to listen to the poisonously sweet gushes from her mouth, I was the one speaking calmly and steadily, and she the one stuttering.

"I worked hard to build myself a new life, away from the stifling influence of my so called f-family. Were you not the one you supported the idea of prost-stituting me? Taking their side against me as always. T-tell me? How is mother dearest? Has she decided that Sonia should take my place as a regular source of income? Or has she come up with another plan to ruin one of my siblings' life?" I asked, using a poisonous tone of voice which made her stumble back until she hit the balustrade of the bridge which would keep people from stumbling into the little stream. Her face was filled with shock. I knew that mother was dead. She did not know that I knew. In a sense it would be amusing to watch her stutter out the information. The past four months under the wing of people who were so much more confident than me has given me self-esteem. They would not let me sit in a corner, but rather forced me to join in the family discussions, giving me the time I needed to stutter out a response, instead of just finishing it for me as Trisha and the others had.

"Y-your mother's d-dead Tessa." She finally managed to say. I pretended surprise, allowing my eyes to open wide. This was another thing Vicente had been working on with me, how to change my expression to represent what I want, what I want people to see. He told me my eyes had the ability to carry any expression I desired of it, something I practiced mercilessly on my Family – to everyone but Marina's amusement. Even Kat seemed, if not amused, at least not annoyed.

"That's a shame. So I won't be able to kill her myself." I answered darkly. It truly was amusing to watch the quick shift of expressions on her face: surprise, fear, anger, worry, and back to fear at a dark look from me.

"Y-you can't mean that?" She asked, her voice rising in pitch as fear fully grips her. She's probably wondering just what kind of monster they have turned me into. Have you any regrets yet? Do you realize yet that the responsibility for this lies squarely at your own feet? Yours. Mother's. And that bastard she had married.

It felt good to finally vent my temper to one of them. An almost wicked smile curving my lips, I stepped away from her, and headed towards Shop Street. I turned back once I had reached a shadow, allowing me to cast a chameleon spell, and watch her unhindered. She still stood where I had left her, obviously dazed.

I felt elated to say the least. It was my first true victory against a member of the family who had birthed me.

~V~

Five days after Tessa and Kita had returned from their almost failed contract, Tessa was finally recovered enough to sit in the common room by the fire. Once she had been able to focus, she had been able to cast the cure disease spell she had learned so long ago. Vicente, for the first time since her recovery from his draining, joined her and the others in the common room. He sat on the armrest of her chair, one hand slipped around her shoulders as she continued to narrate the story of her life. The irritated undercurrent which had previously been present in his magical signature, seemed to have dissipated again.

"Tessa?" Lucien's voice called out to her once she had stopped. Shifting slightly, she turned towards the well entrance where the shrouded figure of their speaker stood highlighted by the natural light from the well. It was sunny outside, and the sun high up in the sky, giving him an aura of otherworldliness.

"Speaker?" She asked politely as she watched him drag his hood back over his head, revealing tiered features.

"A word with you." he added curtly, nodding towards the office wing of the Sanctuary. Vicente helped her to her feet, watching as she walked towards the waiting Speaker, his red eyes thoughtful.

"I believe you are well enough to give an accounting?" Lucien said without preamble once he had closed the door to his own small office – less spacious than Vicente's or Ocheeva's, but he wasn't here nearly as often either.

"Yes." She answered, closing her eyes a second to gather her thoughts. When she opened them again, she was faced with a pair of expressionless eyes. Lucien had sat down behind what must once upon a time have been a desk – the amount of paper covering it could also reach all the way to the ground – his elbows resting on the edges of the avalanche of paper.

With as much precision as she could muster, she narrated the fulfillment of her contract. Occasionally, Lucien interrupted to ask for clarification, but otherwise he let her speak, choosing not to interrupt the fluidity of her words. Once she had said all she could remember, she focused her eyes on his once more. "Could it have been the traitor's work?"

"What do you know of this business?" He asked harshly, a look of surprise ghosting in the back of his eyes before he slammed the impenetrable wall down again which blocked out all of his emotions.

"That he was a member of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, or possibly has links to it." She answered, choosing her words carefully.

"Is this one of those things you learned in those 53 years you have been gone?" He asked almost sweetly. It put Tessa's nerves on edge.

"Yes." she forced herself to keep her voice steady.

"Or perhaps, you are the traitor." He accused darkly.

"No. How could I? I don't know enough about the current roster of assassins working for the Brotherhood." She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice, the worry out of her too expressive eyes.

"Ignorance is easy enough to feign." He whispered in a tone she could only call seductive. Dangerously seductive. "And we have only your words as to the truth."

She just stared at him shocked. She had no answer. No defense. It was her word against anyone else's. And the one thing she could tell him, would only damn her further.

"No answer?" He spat at her.

"W-Why would I risk my own life?" It was the only answer she could give. She knew not what else to say. Every muscle in her body was frozen in fear. A dark chuckle answered her question.

"Why indeed." He finally answered, his eyes never leaving her face. He must see the dread, the fear. Would he interpret it as guilt? For it was exactly what it was, but not for the reasons he would think.


	7. Chapter 6

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. I'm afraid this is going to be the standard from now on. I have to finish my thesis by the beginning of June and I've had yet another disagreement with my professor. This usually means a whole lot of extra work for me. I'll try to keep updating at least once a week.

Thanks for reading =)

**Chapter 6**

_Just give me a little bit of support_

_and simply hold me safe._

"Why do you believe it could be the traitor?" Tessa blinked at the sudden change in tone. Gone was the dangerously deadly assassin. Gone was the Speaker of the Black Hand suspecting her. Instead, there was just Lucien again. An end of the rope tiered Lucien who wanted nothing more than to wave his hand and dispel the problems out of existence.

"I-I..." She stuttered, before looking somewhat sheepish. Then closed her eyes to consider her words. "The target was a low-level member, someone who would not have so much experience. Slipping into a house and killing someone is normally easy enough business. It requires no special expertise. And the Casemoor house is not heavily guarded. A bit of a sleeping potion in the guards' ale when he stops at the King and Queen Tavern on the way on duty, problem solved. They were geared towards a beginner. One who would take the front entrance, and not the nearly impossible to reach balcony – meaning they were told – warned – that the one coming would be an easy target. Not hardened enough not to crack under a bit of torture. Just the kind of low level member they would want to catch."

"And do what? It won't bring them anything. Kita knows next to nothing." He asked. Tessa opened her eyes again at the question, peering curiously into Lucien's face. Only sheer will kept the exhaustion from showing on his face as he questioned her, the tone of voice – that note of uncontrived flatness – revealed it.

"She knows where the Cheydinhal Sanctuary is. And where there is a Sanctuary, there is a higher level member one can catch and torture." She answered almost to herself.

"Not to mention the moral blow of having a Sanctuary eradicated by the Imperial Legion."

"It would discredit you in the eyes of the rest of the Black Hand." The silence which followed this announcement hung heavy in the room. "But how," Tessa chose to break the silence before it could gnaw on her, "would the traitor know that the contract is assigned to the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. Was it pure luck? Or did he just not care which assassin died, as long as one died." At this, Lucien shook his head.

"There is a specific way of distributing contracts to prevent one Sanctuary from operating only in a limited area. As a result we have contracts from here all the way to Anvil. It keeps the Legion on its toes."

"That makes sense." She chuckled somewhat when Lucien blinked at her in surprise. He had answered automatically, his mind elsewhere. "I was never privy to the workings of the Black Hand or any of the minutia of the contract assigning. I only carried out my orders as given, not questioning where they came from. And _she_ did not elaborate either."

Nodding absently, Lucien stared down at the scribbled paper. Vicente's neat, regular handwriting had been complemented by his own hasty scribbles. "then we are looking for someone who has access to the Black Hand." He murmured almost to himself.

"That can't be many?" She stated question-like. "The five from the Black Hand itself, perhaps one in each of the home Sanctuaries. The Silencers. That's no more than fifteen." She quickly calculated out loud.

With piercing eyes, Lucien looked at Tessa. A grim smiled played tug with the corners of his mouth. "You've just promoted yourself to Silencer." He said rather grimly.

"Wha? I thought you didn't trust me?" The sheer surprise showed on her face, causing a full grin to spread over Lucien's face.

"No... I only suspected you."

"What changed?" Confusion was still evident on her face.

"You never answered my question."

"Eh?" It became painfully apparent that Tessa had no idea what he was asking of her, her mouth hanging open in a perfect imitation of a slaughterfish out of water – minus the sharp teeth that is.

"Did she answer?" He asked, referring to the conversation they had shared on the ride back from Bravil. Realization hit her fast enough to close her mouth with a snap.

"I believe I chose not to answer."

"A simple yes _or _no will do." She lowered her eyes in amusement. It was something of a running gag in the Sanctuary.

"Yes." The smirk on his face spoke loudly. She just shook her head, not quite believing how easily he had manipulated her.

"Your first mission will be to fret out any information you can on the links between Casemoor and Phillida, as well any other suspicious links you might discover."

"Sure, send the girl with no clue on current events." came the off hand answer, before she rose, accepting the orders as a dismissal.

"You've a quick mind. You'll learn." He answered as she set her hand on the door. "One more thing."

"Yes?" She turned back to face him. A distance expression had settled onto his face. His eyes looked at her, but did not see her.

"Two things actually."

"Lucien?" She prompted when he again fell silent.

"Should I not be present in the Sanctuary, you can leave me a message in my private Sanctuary, Fort Farragut." She nodded, memorizing the quick directions he outlined. "And please, do not mention your promotion to the others yet. I will instruct Ocheeva and Vicente that you are running contracts for me."

As polite as the words were, only Lucien Lachance could make them sound as a threat. With a nod of her head, and a shrug, Tessa slipped out of the room.

_When had his Silencer died?_ She asked herself silently, as she headed back up towards where the others were gathered, having finally found time to digest the meeting.

~V~

After my confrontation with my Aunt, and the quick grocery shopping, I returned to the Sanctuary still elated at my own personal victory. What I had in no way expected was for the Sanctuary to be in an uproar. Or rather, deathly silent. I found Izza and Rabbit sitting at the kitchen table, eyes blood shot,sniveling.

"What's going on? Did something happen?" Vicente and Nalia had both been absent for individual reasons. The first on Black Hand business, the second on a contract. A cold weight settled on my stomach as I felt a warm hand settle on my shoulder. The green tint identified Magrok as the owner.

"Nalia's dead." She said very softly. I was sure, that should I turn around, I would see an equally devastated look on her face. When had it happened? I can't have been gone for more than two hours. It's not fair. She was... she was... I could feel the tears prick my eyes. Nalia had become a true sister to me. A confidant. A partner in trouble. She understood far better than the others the hell my life had been before I was taken up by the Brotherhood. Her story – with variation – had a lot of similarities. I know we drove the others to distraction with our whisperings, always suspected of hatching a new prank on someone. I hadn't even been able to use my newly crafted spell – to pull a prank on her naturally.

As in slow motion, I felt my legs buckle. I was a harbinger of death. A child of Sithis. And yet, I never for one moment foresaw death as something which could touch me, or those close to me. Magrok caught me, and gently lowered me onto the bench next to Rabbit.

From the high of success, I felt my heart shatter on the bitter truth of reality. I was an _assassin_. All of my friends were assassins. It was a professional risk. Every time one of us left the Sanctuary on a contract, we might not return. _Sithis, why?_ I asked mutely as we all sat around the table in silence.

We all briefly looked up when Katree dragged her still fever weakened body into the room, and collapsed on the bench besides me, her arm reaching out to settled around my shoulders. With the heel of my hand, I angrily wiped my tears away, before speaking in a chocked and broken voice.

"I-I h-have a sp-pell to h-help you." I stuttered out. Emotions are still a sure fire way of sending me flying heads first back into bad habits. At Katree's empty eyed look, I shifted around to face her, placing one hand above her heart, the other on her cheek, whispering the arcana underneath my breath, letting the magicka flush through me – very similar to a fever I realized. This could be due to my currently somewhat uncontrolled emotions. The first questing tendrils of Magicka, I used to seek out the source of her illness – just as the priest had taught me a few hours earlier, just as I have done hundreds of time to heal broken bones or cuts. Once found, I wrapped the tendrils around it, and wove other strands tightly around it, until it was cocooned off from her body, visually pulling it out of her body, the cocoon suffocating it at the same time.

My hands dropped back to the table when I was done, drained by such a healing. It wasn't like healing a simple cut, that was certain.

"Thank you." She whispered softly, her arm still around me, but the fever flush gone from her face. All that remained were the bloodshot eyes and wan face of one who has recently lost a dear friend – a sister.

Evening found us sitting despondently around the fire in the common room, the debilitating effect of Nalia's death robbing us of will to do anything. Eyes hollow, we glared at the well when the cover near the top grated open, before a body was dropped down. And I mean, literally dropped down as one would hoist a sack of potatoes around and over the lip of a well. A tightly black wrapped figure followed down at only a moderately slower pace, crouching on all fours besides the heap of a body.

"Don't just stare," Kat's voice hissed angrily as her green cat eyes caught sight of us. They glimmered in the fire light, the only thing visible beneath her shadowy hood, "help me."

As the unofficial healer of the Sanctuary – I had set more bones and healed more cuts in the past three months than in all my previous life combined I believe – my feet moved of their own accord towards where the Khajiit knelt. I've never cared much for the angry cat, but as I might have mentioned, she is so often busy for Vicente, that I rarely had to speak to her. A quick healing here and there did not require verbal communication. I do believe the feeling was mutual.

"What h-happened?" kneeling and helping her shift the death like body around onto its back, revealing a nasty wound which seemed to ooze black blood – not the vital blood of a living body. My hands trembling slightly, I pushed the hood from the head, swallowing hard when I spotted Vicente's pale features. Far paler than they should be. They had the waxen look of one dead – truly dead.

"A vampire hunter cornered us." The Khajiit hissed angrily as I examined the chest wound. It was shallow, but long, running over the heart up to the opposite shoulder. "I gave him fresh blood, but besides drinking it, he's shown no signs of recovery."

"Did you r-recover the weapon used?" I asked as I carefully cut the cloth around the wound away. The edges showed a gray discoloration, as from poison. When I received no answer, I quickly looked up only to be faced with a wide, teethful smile which would make Death blush in shame in the sheer evilness contained within.

Kat produced the blade once I had acknowledge the fact that the Vampire Hunter must have died a rather painful and slow death. Serves him right.

"Move him to his room." I called over my shoulder, taking the blade, my knees protesting as I rose to my feet again. "You're a poison m-master, are you not Kat?" I asked as she reached down to help the others move Vicente.

"Yes." The hiss was of annoyance, if nothing else.

"Not my own specialty." I answered with a shrug, handing the blade back to her. "Do you think you could find out what kind of poison it was, if it was a poison?" Taking one look back at Vicente, she nodded and headed towards the workroom, blade in hand.

"Tes?" Katree asked as we settled Vicente onto his bed. I just shook my head, kneeling onto the bed with one leg, the other hanging over the side, resting on the floor as if forgotten. Whispering the key to the preliminary healing Magicka, I placed my hands onto the wound, allowing the faint murmurs of Magicka to drag me into the wound.

I was about to reprimand who ever gasped in shock, breaking my concentration, before I realized that it had been me. "That's nasty." I said idly, as I struggled back onto my feet.

"He needs fresh blood – en mass." I added, looking around.

"Then it can't be one of us." Katree closed her eyes, and twirled her hand through her hair – a sign that she was in deep thought.

"That's easy enough." Rabbit said, his smirk rivaling Kat's from a few moments ago.

"I won't ask." Katree said, her eyes opening again. "Do what you must. Take Magork with you if you need help. Tessa?"

"I think I know what's wrong. But I need to examine the blade as well." Is this what being grown up feels like? Having the trust of those around you. Being treated as one competent, and not one a few cups shy of a full set? This weight settling uncomfortably around my shoulders – the responsibility for a life not my own – made my breath come in short gasps. I was so used to others taking decisions for me, that it frightened me to think that I was the one in charge of healing Vicente. My weak Restoration abilities were by far the best of those conscious. It had come as a surprise to the others that I _had _any restoration skills to call my own. We were, after all, assassins, specialized in the craft of death, not of life.

Swallowing hard, I turned to walk out of the room towards where Kat was working. I think my fears and doubts must have shown on my face, no matter how hard I tried to smoothen the muscles into expressionlessness, because Katree pulled me into a hug before I could leave.

"We'll heal him somehow." She whispered into my ear, before releasing me, and sitting down on the bed to begin cleaning the wound as well as she could.

Kat was already waiting for me when I arrived in the workroom.

"Anything useful?" I asked.

"It is a magical poison geared towards killing vampires. It has no effect upon myself." Kat told me, looking up at me as I entered. Eyes narrowing I looked at her, finally seeing the healing scabs on her arms. Biting back my comment, I turned my attention to the blade.

"It works as a blood paralyzing agent. The fresh blood Rabbit and Magork are currently on the look out for will keep him alive, but it won't heal him. It will act as oil when poured into water, it needs something to emulsify the two. The poison blocks the agent which would normally allow for the mixing and assimilation of foreign blood into his own blood." I rattled off the facts I had gleaned from examining the wound almost mechanically as I turned away from the blade on the table towards the shelves. The section on magicka – healing in particular - had grown substantially in the past two months once it had become clear that while not a specialist, I at least had basic training in the school of Restoration and could provide healing otherwise unavailable to the Sanctuary. From then on, the others would always bring back books on the subject from where ever they happen to be. I myself had acquired several from the First Edition in the Market District. Brian and his son were experts at acquiring unusual and rare manuals. Grimacing, I wondered if any of the books would have a cure-the-resident-vampire spell. I somehow doubt it.

"Then we need to nullify the Magicka blocking this mechanism." Kat said matter of factly.

"mmmhmmm." I wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying, having pulled a book down from the shelf, flipping through it. It was a treatise on blood, and not one of the 'it is a mystical substance granted to us by the gods' type of books. It had actually been a necromancer who composed it. Not exactly a 'cure the vampire' book, but close enough.

"Why can't you just dispel the blocking agent?" With a sigh I turned to Kat. The years I spent hiding out in the Mages Guild libraries to escape my family have left more of a trace than I had believed. It was odd how the trust of others can give you the self-confidence to speak about things you know well, where otherwise you would just stumble over your words, causing your interlocutor to just doubt you.

"The risk is t-too great. Instead of dispelling only this magical block, I run the risk of breaking the covenant of undeath sustaining his life. The mechanics of poryphric hemophilia are vastly unresearched, because no vampire would be fool enough to allow someone close enough to do so. What sustains an undead is not the living essence common to life, but rather a faint magical trace. Imagine it as a tapestry if you would, where the tapestry of life is a brilliant purple, beating in time with our hearts, the tapestry for unlife is a corrupted dark purple, almost black, still and silent. Pull a thread on either tapestry and the life unravels. The difference to life is that instead of a killing blow, it takes very specific actions, a spell or a poison tailored to the victim, or a certain organ damaged irreparably. The old adage of a stake through the heart is true, because the heart is the seat of the vampire's life sustaining power. It just isn't common knowledge." All during my little speech, I was flipping through the treatise on blood I had found, seeking something which might help me.

"Erm... and how do you know that, if it isn't researched?" For the first time since I know Kat, I could sense something other than anger and aggressiveness coming from her. If I didn't know better, I would have said it was a sense of awe. Looking up, I caught her eyes.

"Necromancers have made quite a bit of work on the mechanics of sustaining life after its death. The spell required to revive a body into a zombie is the simplified version of what keeps a vampire alive. Which is why a zombie will die if suffering a mortal wound, and a vampire not." Realization dawned on Kat that the shy little girl she had me labeled as might be a bit more than that. Thankfully she did not ask. I wasn't about to explain my stint to necromancy to her.

"Then we need a necromancer to heal Vicente?"

"mmmm." I was once again reading, ignoring Kat's question. "bloodgrass is an agent for preventing the emulsification of blood." I think Kat realized I was speaking to myself. "But it shouldn't have this effect on a vampire, unless coupled with garlic." I grabbed a paper and began scribbling out notes.

"A anti-poison to counter those two perhaps?" Kat asked as I rose to fetch another book.

"Uh? What? Oh yes, as a helping agent. But it was only the carrying agent to weaken Vee enough to make the spell used doubly effective."

"Then an anti-poison linked with a healing spell to break through the enchantment?"

"mmmhmmm."

We both worked through the night. I had Katree provide us with several samples of Vee's blood. I wasn't about to risk using an imperfect spell or potion on him. None of us would have been able to stop any damage done by our well-meant attempts at helping.

"That's it!" I yelped. My back was stiff from sitting at the workbench for so long, papers scribbled full of hasty notes, several phials with blood samples in front of me. Kat looked up at me, from her alchemical equipment, the battered remains of ingredients scattered around her work place how ever they had happened to rest once she was done with them.

"Success?" She hissed at me.

"I think so. Let me double check, but I think I got it." At the rate we were draining Vee of blood to test our theories, it was about time. Though the blood donor organized by Rabbit and Magork was more than sufficient in keeping him alive, it would be good to have a solution. With a sigh, I realized that there would be a problem in administering my healing spell.

~V~

"That's madness!" Katree exclaimed several hours later when, after a short nap, I explained the workings of the restoration spell. Kat had by then managed to create an antidote against the weakening poison, which would make my own healing doubly effective.

"There is no other way. The spell is not stable enough for me to cast it onto one of the blood donors Rabbit and Magork are busy supplying. I couldn't maintain it long enough for it to be effective." I argued patiently, drinking the fortifying potion Kat had brewed for me. The stuff tasted nasty – worse than mandrake root.

"Can't you just cast the spell on him?" Magork asked, arms crossed over her chest, blocking the door out of the kitchen.

"It won't work. He has to ingest the healing agent. It has to be in the fresh blood given to him, and no, the healing wouldn't work if I cast it onto bottled blood. It simply can't be maintained on inert matter. Without the energy from the beating heart to maintain it, it becomes null. I've tried it." They were trying to argue for their own sakes as well as mine, I realized. Bitterly I laughed. "Just today, I realized what it means to be grown up, to shoulder responsibility instead of letting someone else do that particular job."

"But..." I held up my hand to silence Katree.

"But in the grand scheme of things, I am less important than our Speaker." I stood, having swallowed the last of the foul brew and pushed past Magork out of the kitchen. The Orc could easily have stopped me. Small as I was, I was no match to her. A wry smile on my face, I walked into Vicente's room. Kat was keeping guard, keeping an eye on the faint magicka which sustained his unnatural life.

"You are taking this rather calmly? Have you convinced the others?" She asked when she saw me.

"I'm terrified, Kat." I answered in a whisper. "They're not convinced, no." I answered her second question after a moment of silently watching the unmoving, unbreathing face of the Vampire laying upon his bed.

Dragging in a breath to steady my frayed nerves, I approached the bed. It was one thing to apply knowledge theoretically. It was a simple addition of facts to reach a conclusion. It was an entirely other matter to apply these practically. I leaned down over the still form, and whispered into the unhearing ear.

"Hey Vee. I guess I finally grew up, about bloody time too at 25, don't you think? Well... I don't know if you can hear me, but try to... to behave. 'Kay?" There was no point in saying more. I really didn't know if he could hear me. A warm hand squeezed my shoulder, and I nodded to Kat as she carefully sliced my wrist open an inch. Enough for the smell of blood to fill the room, causing the first and only reaction I saw on Vicente's face: his lips quirked up, revealing glistening fangs.

Clamping down on my fear and hesitation, I whispered the arcana needed for the spell, and placed the cut wrist at his mouth, hissing as I felt the twin teeth plunge into the soft skin of my wrist. It almost broke my concentration. Rabbit had told me that he'd sucked the donors dry only through the wrist. So it would be easy enough to separate us once the others felt that too much blood was being taken.

But it seems that the healing agent I was infusing my blood with was already working. Before I could settle by his side comfortably, I felt the teeth leave my wrist, and myself pinned against the wall,the teeth now sunk in my throat. Wide eyed, I stared at Kat, moments before she ran from the room to fetch help. The original plan had been for just her and me to minimize the risk. The original plan had also included me sitting on the bed being drained through the _wrist_.

At first I struggled to fight against the odd sensations running from my neck down my spine. It made me ache in ways I had never before felt. It was like the relief of a warm bath after a long cold day filled with labor, except even better. It made my head spin, and my body long for things which I had only felt as dirty and unpleasant, things which were a part of the work my family had been forcing me to do. If I didn't know better, I would say it was the most erotic sensation I had ever felt.

Right as Kat returned with the others, my sight grew dim, and I heard what could only be a moan of pleasure. _Was that me?_

~V~

"Wait, wait, wait!" Kita interrupted. "Getting your blood sucked out of you is... erotic?" She looked at Tessa somewhat askance. "That's..." She continued, trailing off as she realized what she had almost said.

"Sick? Disgusting? Weird?" Antoinetta supplemented for her, earning a few chuckles from those assembled around the fire place sometimes towards evening. True to her directives, Tessa had revealed her promotion of a few hours ago to no one.

With a low laugh, Tessa stood up and stretched. "Well, while you discuss the appropriateness of calling getting yourself emptied of blood erotic, I shall head off to bed."

"You can't just leave us hanging like that."

"You can badger Vicente about it." Tessa answered with a toothy grin which would have made an Argonian proud. With a chorus of groans, she headed towards the sleeping quarters. "I need to get up early tomorrow morning. Lucien is having me play errand girl while I'm recovering from my mishap." She added with a growl. A scowl firmly settling over her features as she walked down the corridor to her room. She didn't look around or in any way check her surroundings, allowing her feet to carry her to the place they knew she could sleep.

An angry growl startled her once she'd pushed her way into her room, light from the hall way spilling into the otherwise dark room, making her look around.

"Whoops, Sorry Vee." She called out softly at the figure she could hear moving behind the screen. "I wasn't paying attention." She finished with a small, wry grin. Force of habit had brought her to the room she had begun sharing with Vicente not long after the incident she had just described to her Sanctuary mates. At first it had been a matter of convenience. As the resident Vampire, he was the best placed to look after her. But the constant proximity eventually developed into... habit. It was a closeness she had missed over the past few weeks. Her disappearance had more than strained things between them.

"Come here." He commanded softly when she remained rooted in the outline of the door. The door slid shut, shutting out the light, and her hesitant steps slid along the floor. The faint whisper of her fingers dragging along the smooth surface of the dresser and the steady beat of her life force showed him where she was, as he observed her progress. Finally, the grating of linen on silk reached his ear as her leg brushed against the side of his bed, followed by the dip of the mattress as the weight of her settled onto it. Only her breathing and the somewhat unsteady beat of her heart filled the silence as he considered her. From her hesitant movement, he knew she had not cast a nightvision spell. She was practically blind, having none of his senses to give indications of her surroundings.

A whisper of fabric as she drew her legs up under her, her back resting against the foot board, interrupted his idle musings, and he sat up as well. His hand reached out towards where her bumbling fingers slid over the soft silken material of his bedding – there were some perks to having lived over 300 years – and gently caught a hold of them, the warmth of her living flesh a pleasant contrast to his own cool fingers.

Then he tugged.

Willingly she came. The tug had only been faint, enough to indicate she should come closer, but not enough to move her should she not desire it. His free arm slipped around her waist, pulling her flush against him as he settled back down onto the bed, her head pillowed on his bare chest. The hand still holding her own slipped up her arm – causing goosebumps to race along her flesh – until it settled at her neck, tilting her head up towards his face.

Her breathing grew ragged.

Smiling to himself in the dark, he tightened his grip on her, and turned, firmly trapping her into the mattress underneath him, his mouth seeking out hers, before trailing faint kisses along her jaw line to her ear.

"Tell me you still want this." He whispered hotly into her ear as he nibbled on it softly, careful not to draw blood. He knew that on the morrow, she would leave to run missions for Lucien, and could not leave her incapacitated. A turn of her head and somewhat uneven breathing were his only answer as her lips captured his.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to remember all the arguments telling them both why this was a bad idea.

**Author's Note**

I am fully aware that the change in Lucien is rather... abrupt. I have my reasons. And no, I do not need to explain them, as you've probably figured out by now. :p


	8. Chapter 7

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Author's Note:** Sorry it's so late. I really meant have this finished earlier. A bit shorter than normal because I'm depressed and needed to cheer myself up with writing something I enjoy and doesn't need approval from the cruel higher instances of university life, even though I don't really have time to write right now. This also means I didn't proofread it as carefully as I normally would. (read: professors are ______)

**Chapter 7**

The Imperial City held few charms for Tessa. It was large, noisy, dirty, and generally unpleasant. The only positive in her mind was the anonymity given by the very size and squalor. Unlike the smaller cities, such as Bruma or Anvil, or her home of Cheydinhal, no one would know the person who lived next door. They would not gossip about the shy, not too pretty girl living alone in the boarding house down the street. In this place, she wouldn't even receive a second glance, which suited Tessa just fine.

She had taken up residence at Luther Broad's Boarding House as a base of operation and began trailing the politician as her likeliest mark of success. After two weeks and a prolonged trip to Anvil, she was ready to scream. Reason why she sat at the corner table watching the nearly empty common room, a mug of honeyed mead cradled between her hands. The Redguard at the bar seemed as close to drunk as imaginable – she was certain he _wouldn't_ be able to walk straight, let alone stand. To her left sat the only other patron of the place: a Breton pretending to read a copy of the black horse courier. He was busier watching the Redguard drink himself to Oblivion. With a shake of her head at how obvious the Breton was, she returned to her musings.

If Casemoor had any involvement with the Brotherhood's traitor, then either he was hiding it well, or he didn't know who had given him help. Even a late night search of the house and offices had given her no clue. Slowly, she began to suspect that Casemoor had been duped, that he had been as much in the dark as she was. It wasn't anyone who had lived or worked on Casemoor's premises either, but rather someone who had access to them. She suspected that who ever had invoked the Black Sacrament would know. Only the man had been found dead in a gutter, his throat cut as if victim of a mugging. All of this left her at a frustrating zero again.

She would have to report to Lucien soon.

The slight current from the opening door snapped her attention back to the present. Surprised, she watched a Kita walked in, and promptly ignored her as if she didn't know her fellow assassin anymore. Carefully she watched as the younger Breton walked up to the drunk Redguard and sat down besides him. The last news Tessa had had of her younger Sister, was that she had ended up in the Imperial Prison, in a place where neither she, nor any of the others could help her.

Tessa smiled at Kita as one would to a stranger, and continued staring into her sill half-full mug thoughtfully, wondering how and when the younger Breton had escaped. Kita, meanwhile, had sat down on the stool next to the drunk Redguard, leaning forward a bit to place her order, only to have the Redguard stand up and trip into her. With what Tessa assumed was a mumbled apology, he tumbled towards the basement door, probably to relieve himself at the privies down below. It was with a certain amount of surprise that Tessa watched as first the Breton sitting near her followed the Redguard, and next Kita. Intrigued, Tessa completed the happy merry go round, a grim smile playing over her lips as she considered the situation from Luther's point of view: all of his customers deciding to head tot he privies all at once could only look suspicious.

As Tessa stepped into the basement anteroom, what she saw was not what she expected. The Breton was now fully armed and armored with summoned Daedric plate and dagger, attempting to hold the Redguard at bay while a fire atronach kept Kita busy. Pulling her chameleon spell tightly around herself, Tessa slipped behind the Breton, pulling her dagger free by the same occasion. Cold rage filled her as one of the atronach's fire balls hit Kita heads on, causing Tessa's dagger to seek the small chink of unprotected skin where neck met back, almost as if reacting to her Sister's pain.

"Kita!!!" The Redguard was by her sister's side almost the moment the attacker began to topple over, kneeling besides the young woman, one hand pulling at the charred leather of the shrouded armor to pull it from the blistering skin.

"Let me." Tessa ordered coldly as she knelt besides her sister, her chameleon dropping.

"Who are you?" the words were followed by a hiss of steel as the Reguard drew a dagger and pointed it at her.

"My Sister." Kita answered weakly for Tessa. "A Master Healer." she added almost as an after thought.

"Just because I healed Vee, doesn't make me a master." Tessa's lips quirked upwards as the Redguard reluctantly allowed her access to Kita's wound. The fire blast had caught her straight on the stomach, weakened only somewhat by the shrouded armor and Kita's own Breton blood.

"It will take a few hours at least for my healing to take full effect. It's a rather nasty wound." Kita chuckled softly at her sister's words.

"At least this time it's not you. I'd have to drag your half dead hide back home yet again to have Vee heal you." while Tessa worked her healing spells on Kita, The Redguard had gone over to the now cooling body and began searching it. A few muffled curses later, he returned, wiping a bloody hand on a shred of what must have been the Breton's clothing.

"Commentary of the Mysterium Xarxes." he read the title of the book he held in his hand.

"Urg. Cultists. Bloody Fanatics." Tessa's lips twisted into a frown of disgust as she spoke.

"You know them?" Again the hiss of a blade echoed through the small room.

"Calm down Baurus. My sister isn't one of them."

"How do you know? We can't trust anyone!"

"While it's true that it might be a bad idea to trust one such as I – I assume you are a blade?" Tessa watched with a cold smirk as Baurus nodded, catching the obvious unease in the Blade's expression, "My... guild," she continued, the coldness of her expression spreading to her words, "would not profit from what ever these cultist have planed. I found out, during a botched mission with a pathetic excuse of a Fetcher, that they worship Merhunes Dagon... and nothing good ever comes from them."

"You... are... an assassin?" Baurus' voice held a hint of a threat, as if warning her to chose her words wisely.

"I am." She stood to face him, keeping herself between Kita and the now livid Baurus.

"Please Baurus... Tessa's my sister. She will not betray us."

"She is a murderer!"

"My code of honor may not be the same as yours," Tessa's voice dropped to a harsh whisper, "but I would never betray my sister's request."

"Did you know what she does for a living?" Baurus focused on Kita.

"How could I not?" the soft answer echoed through the room, the smell of blood invading the small space with its metallic sweetness, cloying in its insisting thickness.

"I understand."

"Baurus?" Kita called out to him as the Redguard turned to leave. He didn't turn back to Kita, but stopped.

"I did tell Jauffre and Martin what I do... did for a living. Our... family has every interest in stopping this, or it is out of business." Surprise showed on Baurus' face as he turned around to face the two women.

"You told them?"

"We may be assassins Baurus, but we are not traitors." Something deep in Tessa's heart clenched painfully at Kita's words, only years of practice kept her expression blank. She would not betray Kita's part in this mess, but had she not betrayed her sister in a worse manner? Swallowing, she gently helped the younger Breton stand, watching as a moment of indecisiveness crossed over Baurus' face before he came to help.

"What of Luther?" Tessa asked as they reached the door at the top of the basement stairs.

"He's a retired Blade. He'll cover for us." With a nod, Tessa cracked the door open, before pushing it open fully seeing the empty common room.

~V~

Several hours later, the early evening twilight found the two sisters sitting upon Tessa's bed. Clean bandages were wrapped around Kita's midriff, showing slightly under the too short shirt Tessa had given her. Baurus had left some minutes before to seek out information on the Mythic Dawn at the Arcane University, leaving the two women alone, albeit reluctantly.

"Vee wouldn't say what happened after the healing you performed upon him." Kita spoke, wincing slightly as she sifted around, the still healing skin pulling uncomfortably.

"Because he's too much of a gentleman." Tessa answered with a wry smile, leaning back comfortably against the wall, eyes half closed.

~V~

Realization comes back to me very slowly. The first thing I notice is pain. For all I know, it's the only thing defining me. Just pain. Kind of hazy. It's more of a general sensation than a precise emotion or location. Everything hurts. It's as simple as that. The next thing I realize is that I'm weak and cold. But somehow that seems as if part of the pain. I know that that makes no sense. Pain and cold aren't the same. So why should they feel like that? Maybe the pain comes from being cold? No. The cold only made me regain some sort of realization as to just who, what, and where I was. Where?

I'm on a bed. Of that much I am certain. When I move my fingers I can feel silk slip through them. Cold silk. I can't afford silk. Can I? I try to remember what happened. Did I slip? Fall? No. Or yes. I did fall. But somehow I know it wasn't any of my usual clumsiness when I'm in the Sanctuary.

The Sanctuary? It has something to do with the Sanctuary. Am I there? At home? I had to help... someone? Someone was ill. Vee!

"Vee?" I snap my eyes open, or try to. All I manage is a faint flutter. But I get the impression of candle light and darkness. The impression of a room I haven't been in very often. If I'm in Vee's room... where is he?

"Calm." Kat's soft sibilant voice stops my worried musings, and I again struggle to open my eyes, only to find her sitting besides me on the bed.

"Wher... Where... is... Vee?" My mouth feels dumb, with my tongue far too large for the small confine.

"Out looking for a snack."

"Oh." My worries calmed, I fall back a sleep. When I wake up again, my eyes struggling to open themselves, I find Kat sprawled in a chair placed by the bed's side. Her cat like green eyes are closed and the slight rise and fall of her chest produces a faint hissing sound as the air is exhaled through her sharp teeth.

"Kat?" My tongue feels a little bit more like my own, and the voice which speaks resembles what I am used to hearing. She startles awake, her green eyes snapping open with an alertness only trained assassins seem to have when out on a mission. In the Sanctuary, we might sleep like the dead, trusting our Family to keep us safe, but anywhere else, a slight noise out the common, the whisper of a movement, anything really can bring us to instant awareness.

"How do you feel?" She stands and leans over me, one hand brushing over my sleep tangled hair in a very comforting gesture. It is the kind of gesture I imagine a mother might have for her child.

"Exhausted." And it is true. My limbs feel like lead, and I can't imagine being able to move them.

"I imagine. Vicente did not leave you with much blood."

"How is he?" I ask while I struggle into a sitting position. Finally, with Kat's help, I manage, feeling somewhat more at ease now that I'm not laying fully helpless. I'm only a notch below that.

"He is fully healed. Your suppositions were correct. Given time, I suspect you could even have perfected the spell to prevent yourself from having to act as support for the magicka."

"Is that praise I hear?" I feel fully flabbergasted. Kat was not known for praise. Her usual mode of comportment with family members were bare tolerance or outright animosity. I had learned from Katree that Kat had been a slave to a sadistic master, and that the first kill had been said master. It had been meant as a warning not to cross the Khajiit's path unless necessary, because the slight female hadn't only killed her master, she had made him suffer every atrocity committed upon her. Trust was something given only sparingly by the feline woman.

I had never heard her laugh, only snarl. It is a musical, almost enchanting sound. Low and smooth as the waves over a sandy beach.

"It is." She finally confirmed my suspicions.

"That's... unusual." I think my confusion must have amused her, because she laughed again.

"Upon your arrival, I feared you would be a... charity case. You had no skills to speak off, and stupid to boot." My eyes grew larger.

"You judged me by my stutter!" It was a revelation. I had a certain amount of respect for the Khajiit's skills in perception, few things blinded the brilliantly glowing green eyes.

"I did. I should have known better. You have more than proven yourself over the past days. Proven that you would die for our Family if you believed it would bring something."

"Oh." I feel caught somewhat off balance. From all the things I expected, this was not it.

"You have become something worthy of respect, and not the scorn I had previously given you."

"Then I'll endeavor to remain something worthy of your respect." Again Kat laughed at my comment, as if indulging a child.

"It is not my respect you need, Sister, but your own."

"But perhaps, by being something you consider worthy of respect, I become something I myself can respect?" I'm not sure what to make of the toothy smile she gave me. But before I could ask, she switched subjects.

"Are you ready to speak with Vicente?" You know that expression owls have when faced with light? Well that was roughly the expression on my face right at that moment.

"Is he avoiding me?" Why the thought would make my heart clench so painfully, I'm not quite sure. But it did. Vicente is the closest I have to true family. The one who has given me more care than all of my blood family together.

"He thought it wise to wait until you were ready to speak to him. He feared the draining might have had unusual effects upon you." Kat did not elaborate. I didn't ask. Somehow, I think it would be better to ask Vicente himself.

"I..." I was about to tell her I wanted to see him when a little voice spoke up inside of me. _He hurt you_. He did, didn't he? But it hadn't been a rational reaction, and I had expected something like this to happen. _He has no control._ He was poisoned.

Am I afraid? Of Vee? This very thought sent all other thoughts and thought processes screeching to a stop. Could it be that I am afraid of the vampire.

"Tessa?" I blink some tears away, and look up at Kat. "Speak to him, only he can answer your questions." Slowly, I nodded and watched as she left to room. In the solitude of the room, only one candle lighting the darkness, I feel these thoughts pressing upon me again. Why do I suddenly fear him and yet worry he might forsake me? It makes no sense to me.

~V~

Tessa's voice trails off as a knock resounds on their door. With a sigh, she stands and walks over, opening it.

"Sister." An argonian in shrouded armor stood waiting, holding out a single letter. "Master Lachance requests this be delivered to you."

"Thank you Brother. Walk Always." He nodded, and Tessa closed the door again, before breaking the seal on the missive.

"What is it?" Kita asked once Tessa had had time to read through the short note, penned in Lucien's harried script.

"Orders. I have to go to Anvil." Under her breath she added an _again_. She had only returned two days ago from exactly the same place. It annoyed her to think of yet another useless journey. But she wouldn't say this to her Speaker. "I'm playing errand girl again."

"How soon do you have to leave?"

"Yesterday." Kita watched as Tessa packed her belongings together until only the older assassin's shrouded armor lay on the bed. It was a standard issue armor, with some enchantments added by Vicente over the years, and always lovingly mended by the Vampire. He would never hear anything about allowing someone else to do the work.

"Here." Tessa finally said, handing the armor to Kita. "And take good care of it for me. I'll want it back without a scratch."

"But..." An assassin's shrouded armor was like the black band issued upon completion of a first contract: something of immense sentimental value.

"You need it more than me." Kita nodded, silently watching as Tessa left the room, a sadness in her eyes that Tessa could fully comprehend. It was the sadness of certainty. Certainty that they would not see each other again.

By the time Masser cleared the horizon, Tessa was crossing over the bridge to Weye, an odd certainty in the pit of her stomach. She would not see Kita again. Perhaps, she would not see any of her family again. She hoped and prayed to Sithis that it was only a passing sensation.

~V~

Lake Rumare sparkled sapphire blue under the oblique rays of sunlight of an early winter sun, cutting through the gathering gloom of snow clouds. A faint ripple of wind danced along the water's surface, undisturbed by the lurking slaughterfish underneath. Only the distant cries of a mer broke the idyllic setting from its calm. The slaughterfish care preciously little as a thin rivulet of blood seeps into the sand banks – oddly empty of mud crabs – and into the sapphire water of the lake.

The body of the Dunmer, a long silvery dagger in its heart, lay with the stillness of a discarded doll, as a withered black rose with a white scroll wrapped around the stem, attached by a black satin ribbon, was carelessly thrown on the growing red splotch of sand surrounding the body.

The silence returned to the lake shore as the mud crabs returned and carefully approached the prospective meal. Low, almost inaudible screeches of annoyance erupted from the creatures as their spidery legs hit against an unseen barrier, preventing access to what should have been a feast for them.

~V~

"We're being taken for fools!" Ungolim slammed his fist down in anger, the empty bottles on the table quivering at the abuse, some threatening to tumble and break in their surprise at the outbreak.

"I fear I must agree." Lucien sat quietly watching the Listener rant and rage, the other members of the Black Hand arrayed around the room. Arquen stood behind the Listener's chair, one hand upon his shoulder in an attempt to calm him, while J'Ghasta leaned over the table, sorting through the upset bottles in an attempt to find one which was not empty. Havilstein Hoar-Blood lounged near the door, Redmaw at his feet, glowering darkly at the room at large, Ungolim in particular.

"The traitor is becoming more dangerous." J'Ghasta spoke almost absently as he continued picking through the bottles.

"Alval Uvani was not someone to be trifled with. He is... was a master in destruction. I had not chosen him idly as my personal Silencer." Ungolim leaned back in his chair again, shrugging Arquen's hand from his shoulder as he brooded, failing to catch the somewhat amused expression on Lucien face at the last part of the comment.

"What of the message?" Hoar-Blood interrupted the idle conversation.

"_A Silencer for ever silenced. A funeral in his head now, instead of in his hands."_ Arquen read the scrap of paper found with the body.

"The traitor doesn't normally leave such messages, does he?" Lucien asked as he took the paper from the Altmer Speaker and glossed it over.

"Perhaps he thought a higher ranking member deserved better treatment? After all, up to now he only went after low ranking targets. All of which had an affiliation to the Cheydinhal Sanctuary." J'Ghasta personally didn't believe his own words, but somehow he felt that to speak his own doubts would only worsen matters. The Black Hand was divided enough as it was. The idea of being face by two traitors troubled him greatly, and he preferred to delude himself into believing the former had simply changed his modus operandi.

"I will have Tessa investigate this." The rustling of his robes accompanied the words as Lucien stood to leave. The meeting was pointless. The news of the silencer's death could as well have been brought by messengers, instead of forcing all members of the Black Hand to attend, and commiserate with the Listener.

"How do we know she is not responsible in someway?" With a sigh, Lucien turned back to Ungolim.

"She is in Anvil, tracking down a lead on the traitor, and has been for the past fortnight."

"Contact her. I demand to speak with her."

"Very well."

~V~

**Author's Notes:**

Members of the Black Hand as I see it

- J'Ghasta (Silencer: Banus Alor)

- Havilstein Hoar-Blood (Silencer: Belisarius Arius)

- Arquen (Silencer: Mathieu Bellamont)

- Lucien Lachance (Silencer: Tessa de Bellerive)

- Ungolim (Silencer: Alval Uvani - deceased)


	9. Chapter 8

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Author's Note:** First of all, I would like to apologize for being silent so long. My muse was willing and pestering me, but I simply had more important deadlines that I _had_ to keep. And as I had predicted, my professor had me change a crap load of stuff in my Thesis. But I can happily say that it's submitted and quasi accepted. All I have left are exams in September and I'll be an MA of Arts with major in English Literature. =) That also means I have a wee bit more time to dedicate to this. I can't promise a daily update, but I'm pretty sure I can manage a weekly one, at worst one every two weeks.

Again, I apologize for the long wait. But don't worry... I'm not through with Tessa yet. =)

**Chapter 8**

The forest was silent as the black clad figure slipped past trees and bushes underneath a moonless sky. Masser had long since set, and Secundus was only now rising behind the cover of dark storm clouds. Tessa stopped as the whisper of voices floated to her. Her hair tied back into a simple braid, but the customary yellow tie missing, replaced by a black one matching the mundane black of her hair. She'd died a piece of leather armor black to replace the cuirass she'd left with Kita. A twinge of regret slithered through her as she thought about her younger Dark sister. Of all those she had met in these current times, Kita was the one she had felt the most for. It was the young Breton who's eyes followed her in her sleep, condemning her for some of those things she had done. _But it was for the good of the Brotherhood. Wasn't it?_

Ahead she could see the flicker of a camp fire gleaming weakly in the moonless sky. Distantly, her eyes traced the rune of her strongest chameleon spell, drawing the semi-invisibility over her like a cloak. The cool band of her Ring of Crawling settled onto her finger, and the forest around her pulsed with an eerie blue light. Many small animals slithered through the area surrounding her, and ahead she picked out four life signs. The strong beat of a mortal heart calling out to the dark place within herself. A small part of her mind could still remember the coppery taste of blood, as if it had once been a part of who and what she was. Another life. Another time.

One of the four around the camp rested several paces from the others, on the other side of where she was. She had approached the camp coming down from the mountains, and not coming up from Skingrad. It wouldn't do for them to see her before she even got close. Only the one standing guard would have his detect life spell activated. The others would be resting instead of wasting energy. Carefully, she stepped into the clearing, and smiled as she spotted the three Dunmer sleeping, trusting their companion to warn them should something come.

With a swipe of her blade blood began to soak into the bedroll of the mer closest to her. It was a simple apprentice. No use to her. The next one suffered the same fate. Perhaps not an apprentice, but useless to her plans. The third she breathed a burden spell to keep him in place before she went to take care of the sloppy guard. Just because you enemy is likelier to approach from the south, doesn't mean he wouldn't come from the north.

With slow movements, she reached out to grab him... her by the back of her neck, and rammed her blade up into the ribcage where her dunmer heart would be beating. She knew the the exact moment in which the tip of her blade had penetrated the heart. The precise instant in which the large muscle stopped its regular contractions. The moment in which the life essence fled from the frail body. She released her hold on it, and watched in amusement as it collapsed into a boneless heap at her feet.

"Such respect for me, _sister_. I hadn't expected it." Her voice held a tone of boredom, and of something darker. That quality which made every assassin what he was. The dangerous part that had to be chained and locked into a room, lest it break out when it shouldn't and cause mayhem death and destruction when it is not wanted or needed.

Leaning down, she wiped the dagger's blade on the fallen woman's cloak, before leisurely walking back towards the camp and her last victim. She scanned the surrounding forest once, before focusing on the man, his eyes still closed.

"Tsk tsk tsk. Not very wise, to sleep so soundly in enemy territory." The man's eyes snapped open at the sound of her voice, and had his glare been a dagger, Tessa would have been dead and buried.

"Release me now."

"mmmm let me think.... no." She watched, amused, as he struggled against the weight of the spell she had hit him with.

"Tessa..." his growl could very well have been described as menacing, yet Tessa only smiled at him darkly.

"Tell me Puppet Master, how does it feel to be the puppet for once, and not the Master?"

"I command you to release me." The slap rung out through the clearing, underlaid with a low snarl.

"You will do no such thing. Fool. You ruined my standing. Had you had patience, the Lachance would lie dead before long. But now. Now you've destroyed all my plans, forced me to move into shadows. No longer can I access any of the Brotherhood sanctuary because of your impatience."

"It cannot be traced to you." The dunmer's voice held a quietness which belied his anger at the situation.

"No? It doesn't matter. Even without proof they will blame me for the Silencer's death. And for every death caused by the Traitor." The mer's eyes flickered in surprise. "What? You, the mighty master, are unaware of a Traitor in your worst enemy's ranks? How sad that the knowledge won't bring you anything."

Slowly, she pranced closer again. The black edge of her blade glowed dully in the weak firelight, and the dunmer seemed almost hypnotized by the swaying of the weapon. The first scream escaped him when she neutered him. The second when she began to tear his stomach to shreds with a careful application of the blunted edge of her blade. She stopped counting the screams beyond that. Relishing only in the feel of the sound as little drops of blood splattered against her exposed skin.

The silence which had accompanied her to the clearing, followed her out again. The creatures of the forest would destroy the evidence of her murders. And if they were found before, none but her Masters would ever suspect her involvement. It mattered not.

~V~

She stood in the hills above Cheydinhal, her eyes fixed on the spot where the abandoned house marked the Sanctuary's location. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as she looked upon a place she would never again be welcomed at. By not answering Lucien's summons, she had marked herself a traitor as surely as if she'd killed Alval Uvani herself. The Brotherhood's machinery would be grinding into action to seek her out. And Vicente would hate her, as surely as if she'd betrayed the brotherhood.

"_Vee?" Her voice was tentative as the door opened and closed again behind the ever present screen. Perhaps she had dreamed the movement of the door? No sound answered her as she struggled into a sitting position. She felt so weak. After long moments, she finally gave up again, collapsing back onto the soft pillows, beads of sweat marring her pale brow. Finally the silent figure stepped from around the screen and settled on the bed besides her._

"_Why do you avoid me?" She asked softly of the vampire now sitting besides her. The only answer was a soft sigh. With one hand, she struggled to reach out to him. Almost too weak to lift the appendage from the bed and cover the short distance between herself and the vampire. _

"_When I was taken in by the brotherhood," he finally spoke, "I swore never to harm a member of this new family, regardless of the circumstances. I almost killed you. Incapacitated you for weeks." _

"_You weren't exactly given a choice." came the prompt retort. "Vee? Look at me..." Slowly, agonizingly slowly for Tessa, he finally turned to look at her. The red eyes shone with an interior light which made her breath catch and her heart beat madly in her chest. It was of such intensity that she almost felt burned. "I gave myself willingly, so you may live, releasing your from your vows just this once." _

"_You don't understand the ramifications of your actions." He shook his head, breaking the eye contact with her. _

"_Then make me understand." _

"_It is not so simple." _

"_Make it simple." They remained immobile for long seconds as the age old vampire attempted to organize his thoughts. _

"_I cannot help but crave the taste of your blood. It is intoxicating to me now. Freely given blood is a drug without comparison for a vampire. The risk will always remain that I might claim more from you."_

"_But never too much?" _

"_I should at least be able to do that." Satisfied, Tessa nodded, and allowed tense muscles to relax, her hand having finally found his. _

"_Then... it would not be harming me." She spoke with a confidence she didn't not truly feel. A confidence she needed to maintain for his sake more than hers. He would, after all, have to spend eternity with his actions, while she could count on the blissful oblivion of death to release her. How many secrets did he carry in his heart, which made him regret his immortality? Probably far too many. Weakly, she tugged at his hand, asking him to come closer. _

"_My life is but a candle. Once burned down, it cannot be replenished with new life. It is but the passing wind rustling the leaves of an age old tree. Give me the honor, of making my own decision on how I spend these few instants." _

_Without further words, Vicente leaned down and captured her lips with his own. He would consider the ramifications of his actions in the morning._

~V~

"She is to be killed on sight." Vicente nodded grimly as Lucien brought the news. Why he had not seen it coming, he didn't know. In silence he stood, and left the room, leaving the rest of the Sanctuary sitting around the formal dinning room table.

"V..." Antoinetta began to speak, but Lucien just held up a hand, demanding silence. In silence he looked after the departing vampire, wondering what thoughts coursed through the old mer's mind.

"Should you have any news of her, tell me at once." All those assembled nodded grimly. As the words were spoken and acknowledgments given, Kita slipped from the room. She had much to do, and little time to do it in.

**Author's Note**: Sorry it's so short and confused. Not to mention about as unproofread as it gets. It'll get better again soon. I promise. =)


	10. Chapter 9

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Author's Note:** That was a bit quicker than last time... wouldn't you agree? I'll eventually go back and straighten out chapter 8 a bit. For now I just want to move on with the story before my energy deserts me. :s

**Chapter 9**

The door to the room opened on silent hinges, and the black cloaked man walking through the ached doorway made barely more noise than the door itself. He stopped as he spotted the vampire bent over a large stone slab which had been placed to one side of the room long ago, almost like a pristine altar waiting a sacrifice.

"You cannot ask me to go after her." The words were soft spoken and help much of the pain felt by the vampire. For all of his centuries of life, nothing had ever prepared him for such an event. He had believe himself impervious to the pain of mortals, but his unbeating heart ached with feelings long believed forgotten or lost.

"You are the only one I can ask." Lucien spoke with quiet conviction as he approached his long time friend and mentor, laying one hand onto the bent shoulder.

"Why?" for once, the vampire was at a loss of understanding. The world he had once seen with such clarity seemed to be but a shadow with no color or contrasts of light and dark. Where shades of red used to determine the actions of his heart and mind, only a uniform gray remained, hiding any logic or attempt at understanding.

"Because, Vicente, only you can understand her." The ancient vampire straighten and faced Lucien, looking for something in the depth of the brown eyes. Then, he slowly shook his head at the words. How could he understand one who had betrayed the very world he breathed for?

"No Lucien. I cannot understand her anymore." Without answering, Lucien simply placed a single sheet of parchment on the slab besides where one of Vicente's hands still steadied the Vampire on the slab, and retreated from the room, closing the heavy behind him. The parchment he had left behind showed sign of repeated folding and, after Vicente had turned it, revealed Tessa's economical but somewhat erratic script. Vicente's eyes ran over the words greedily, as a dying man might drink in the sight of a life saving oasis while wandering the deserts of Elswyer. The words floated before his eyes for a long while, meaningless beyond the hand they had originated from. Only slowly word by word, did meaning begin to form within the words themselves. Only slowly did Vicente begin to understand why Lucien believed only he could track down Tessa.

Refolding the letter into its original star-shape, he slipped it into his tunic as if it had never existed, and left his office.

~V~

Kita stood on a small rise north of Cheydinhal and waited in the gathering gloom of falling night. Her eyes never rested on a single object, but ever restless, she sought the tell tale sight of a moving object. Once she squinted into the gloom, only to frown as the shadow revealed itself as a mere shadow. One foot slowly tapped against the ground in mounting impatience. She couldn't wait much longer.

"How impatient you are." A voice suddenly floated from just beyond her ear. Swallowing a scream, she whirled around to see nothing. A low laugh haunted her ears before a the ripples of a dispel spell wavered and Tessa appeared in front of her.

"I had almost given up."

"I gave you my word, sister."

"They have branded you traitor." Kita spoke quietly as they slowly picked their way up a slope towards where she had left her mount. Another black mount had joined hers, and she recognized the bundle behind the saddle as belonging to Tessa. They mounted in silence and followed a barely visible beaten earth path up towards Lake Arrius.

"I expected no less." Tessa said once they were underway "As shall you be if they find out you spoke with me after the banishment."

"They will do so before long no matter my association with you." At those words Tessa stilled her mount and turned in the saddle to look at Kita. The hood of her shrouded armor was thrown up, hiding the features, just as Tessa's own hood hid her own. The Ring of Crawling gave Tessa a good view of troubled features.

"What do you mean?"

"Ocheeva is not pleased at my long absences working for a master she does not know, against a threat she is not certain will cause damage for the brotherhood. They had claimed to give me freedom to assist where it was needed, but they had not believed that I would be drawn so deeply into this mess, and it is far from over. Should they know I have joined the Blades, the price will be my life." A startled gasp escaped Tessa at the last words. The Dark Brotherhood and the Blades were as opposite as possible. They were antithesis to each other, and only made to converge with difficulty into a common goal. Lost in contemplation, Tessa did not notice the growing silence between the two. Kita seemed to wait for her Dark Sister to speak.

"Then you must choose between the Brotherhood and the Blades." When finally Tessa spoke, it was with a troubled voice. It was a fool's choice, as neither would be the correct.

"Will the Brotherhood not condemn me for choosing the Blades, and the Blades for my history with the Brotherhood?" The question was rhetorical at best, as both women knew the answer. Tessa simply nodded, and the continued towards their destination. Finally, they reached a small copse of trees where they attached their mounts. While Tessa set several spells around their mounts to protect them, Kita readied herself before she turned towards her sister with a grim smile.

"This is it."

"Remember, I will shadow you, invisible. Do not call for me unless you have no choice.2 With a nod, Kita turned and continued up the rest of the short incline to where a weather beaten cavern door lay half hidden behind some boulders. She turned once to observe Tessa, only to find the older Breton vanished. A ghostly hand brushed her hair out of her face, indicating that the other woman was still present, even if almost perfectly camouflaged by her spell. A small smile spread over Kita's lips at the reassurance.

Kita pushed open the door and stepped through with all the confidence of a down on her luck adventurer. Her shrouded armor and assassins weapons were in the keeping of Tessa, having been replaced by rough leather armor which had seen better days and a rusty iron short sword. She carried nothing of value on her person, but had an array of daedric summons at her finger tips, only a whispered command away from use.

She had little to fear.

"The dawn is breaking." A figure clad in the robes of the Mystic Dawn greeted her at an inner door which, to her semi-trained Breton eyes seemed magically locked. Fighting her way in seemed out as an option.

"Greet the new day." She answered, remembering the ever recurring phrases in the 'Commentaries'. At least reading her eyes bloody on those things had been good for something.

"Welcome, Sister" The figure answered, "You are just on time. Proceed inside." With a nod, she followed the woman to the door and watched as the it opened at a touch. It had taken all of her self control not to shudder at the woman's use of the title 'sister'. That was reserved for those of the Brotherhood. It felt natural when Tessa addressed her as sister. Here it had felt like a hug from Merhunes Dagon.

Just as the door closed behind her, she thought she had the impression of a gurgling fountain. It was a sound very much like the jugular made when severed by the clean swipe of a very sharp blade, and the victim had no chance to react or even breath as their life essence spilled onto the thirsty ground. Another figure greeted her one door further. She suspected that this door too had some sort of a magical block. At least Tessa's knowledge in spells was by far superior to hers, and she should be able to contour these as she proceeded to follow the trail of footsteps on the dusty ground.

"To proceed further, you must surrender all of your earthy processions. Our Lord will provide for all of your needs as you begin a new life, reborn as a loyal servant." Kita simply nodded, and gracefully accepted the robes and hood tendered towards her.

~V~

Tessa watched as Kita changed into the robes given her and proceeded through yet another door. Once the door had again closed, she slipped forward from shadow to shadow, her feet barely disturbing the dust on the ground. With almost feline grace, she slipped between the mer and the door. Drawing her dagger, she pulled it across the unsuspecting man's throat. The eyes remained open with the shock of sudden death. As with the others she had terminated, this one had no time to alarm about an invader. She made sure no one remained between her and the door, regardless of growing distance. With the help of her Ring of Crawling, she easily spotted any stray guard to eliminate, and eliminate she did. A trail of dead bodies led back towards the main door to the cavern as if to keep the trail in case of a lost way. She smiled grimly when she thought about the children's tale about a boy leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to mark his way. She was leaving a trail of body. How fitting of her.

Once she was certain no other Cultists strayed on this side of the door, she knelt besides this second door, and placed one hand on the lock, and the other in the center of the door. Sending a small tendril of magicka into the door, she closed her eyes and listened for the distant echo which should appear. When it didn't, she smiled and pulled a lock pick from her belt. With a grin of satisfaction, she listened as a low click resounded when she'd pushed all tumblers into place where they belonged. With the care of a thief and the silence of an assassin, she cracked the door open and slipped her head through.

Ten paces from her place, with his back turned towards her, another guard slouched against the wall. Like the door guardian, the guard soon lay prostate at her feet with eyes open in surprise. After a quick exploration of the few corridors in the area, she crept through the last door available, and stopped short. She was on the upper level of a huge cavern. In the pit in the center was a life sized statue of Mehrunes Dagon, in a pose of victory. The statue made her shiver with an unfelt chill. For some reason, it seemed as if the eyes seemed to look straight into her soul and realize that she meant harm and not compliance. Swallowing the feeling, she crept along the right of the pit rim to a stalactite formation behind which she crouched down in case her chameleon should give way.

After shaking a the last of the blood from her dagger, she slipped it into its sheath, and pulled her bow to readiness, before focusing her attention on the scene at her feet. Around the raised dais upon which the statue stood several Cultists stood arrayed. All had their heads bent in a submissive gesture. Two more cultists stood on the same level as the statue, and an Argonian lay bound and seemingly drugged on a sacrificial altar at the very feet of the statue. For long moments, Tessa couldn't spot Kita amongst the masses of similarly cloaked beings.

"Behold! We have a new sister." One of those on the dais had spoken, raising his arms for silence after a brief eruption of muttered speech. The Altmer, Tessa assumed this was Mankar Camoran, nodded to Kita when she was brought onto the platform with him and smiled in a way which would make the blood freeze in a normal person. At a nod, two guards suddenly arrived and each grabbed one arm.

"Also behold, a traitor." the last word was spoken low, and caused an renewed increase in sound in the cavern. With practiced ease Tessa drew an arrow and pulled back, waiting immobile for a sign of when to release. "Septim's lap dog came to our very heart. Alone. What a foolish girl."

He laughed.

"Soon the time of reckoning will be come, and the Dawn will break to greet a new day. A new age. The new age will be ours!" Amidst the roars of the crowd, Camoran brushed his hands over a book and a golden portal sprung up behind him. "I will wait for our success in Paradise."

Then he stepped through and was gone. The priestess who had remained, approached the Altar, and grabbed a silver dagger placed besides the book, her hands shying away from the book when they accidentally brushed it as if burned. Just as she rose her hand to strike at Kita, Tessa let fly her arrow, embedding it deep into the woman's back, where an Altmer's heart would be beating. She crumbled like a ragdoll at her sister's feet.

"How becoming that you should bow to the next Septim's servant." Her voice carried over the commotion, distracting many from Kita while they sought her presence. Two arrows later, the guards on the platform lay dead, and Kita was armed with a wicked looking daedric shortsword. Without thought, the dark sister strode up to the stone lectern, and grabbed the open book, wincing as her hands made contact with the artifact. Unfazed, she closed it, and stuffed it under her robes.

With controlled movements, Tessa continually peppered the crowd of worshipers with arrows, each arrow a hit, gradually thinning out the ranks of those below her. Several rushed up onto the platform to stop Kita, but the moment the book was removed from the lectern, the statue began to cave in on itself, burying the Argonian and two of the Cultist. Kita simply vaulted over the lectern and into the now noticeably smaller crowd. Without much thought, Kita ran up the steps leading to the upper gallery, having thrown her hood back to simplify Tessa's work. It wouldn't do for the assassin to kill her own sister.

Dropping her Chameleon, Tessa stepped back from her hiding place back towards the door they had come in.

"It's locked!" Kita smile was grim as she accepted her own blade from Tessa.

"Stand back." Tessa had had enough time coming in to examine the magical properties of the door. With a slight smile she threw a frost ball at the door, watching it freeze into a solid wall, followed by a shock charge. The door exploded into a hail of frozen splitters. Several cultists found themselves peppered by the shards and staggered back into their comrades.

The rest of the way was already open and clear; Tessa had left nothing to chance. Within moments, they were running full speed down the hillside towards where their mounts waited, several of the guards on their trail.

Breathing somewhat heavily from the exertion, the two women reached their mounts, untied them, and vaulted into the saddles; Tessa had her bow drawn and almost sloppily sent several arrows towards their pursuers, causing them to jump for the safety of boulders and trees to avoid being hit.

The did not stop riding until they were well past Cheydinhal on the road to the Imperial City.

"I'm not unhappy to be rid of these robes. They make my skin crawl."

"I can imagine." Tessa glanced at the younger woman, and noticed the book. "You shouldn't handle that. Put it into your pack." Almost reluctantly, Kita placed the book as Tessa suggested.

"It's... strange."

"It's gives me the creeps, and not many things do."

"Coming from someone who sleeps with a vampire... I believe you."

"We will part at the Imperial City. I should not linger in your presence."

"I..." Kita's voice trailed off and she clutched her pack to her, troubled eyes closing.

"Kita?" The younger woman jumped at the sound of a voice right next her ear and the feeling of two warm arms wrapped around her. Somehow, she had lost several moments of her life, and for the life of her she couldn't quite explain what had happened.

"I'm fine."

"If you wish, I will accompany you to your destination."

"please." Without another word, they mounted and continued on the long journey up to Bruma. Tessa occasionally glanced back over her shoulder, as if worrying that someone might be following them.

~V~

"Halt" The voice echoed out over the parapet, somewhere high above, unseen through the thick fog surrounding the fortress. The rider stilled the mount with a quick pull on the reign, all the while cradling an unconscious figure against the chest. With a flicker of annoyance in her eyes, Tessa threw her hood back and looked up to where she knew guards would be standing.

"I am Tessa de Bellerive, Sister to Kita." In the silence following, she drew back Kita's hood. If these blades were as good as she had always been led to believe, then they would have a nighteye spell which could pierce this fog. The younger Breton's face was pale, far too pale even for one walking the shadow paths of life. Her lips grim, Tessa turned her face back up towards the parapet. "She is ill and requires immediate assistance from a healer versed in the Daedric arts. She led me to believe that I would find such a person here."

For long moments, the sounds of conversation, hushed by distance and fog, floated down to her while she waited, followed by a shouted "open the gates", before the massive doors finally parted. With a mild pressure of her heels, Tessa guided the mount through the door and into a small staging area at the bottom of a seemingly endless array of steps. To the left of the staging area, a stables lay nestled between the high walls and the stair, the opening of a natural cavern visible through the wooden front of the structure. Several figures rushed up to her. A groom grabbed her reigns and two men dressed in the traditional armor of the blades carefully helped her unload her burden.

"Do not touch her pack." Her voice was cold and cutting as one of them reached for the small bundle clutched tightly against Kita's chest. The hand hesitated, but one glance at her marble cold face stopped his hand, and they simple picked up the unconscious young woman and began the long trek up the stairs and into the Great Hall in the center of the fortress.

"Lay her in front of the fire." Ignoring the startled look from the priest seated alone at a large table, Tessa shrugged off her cloak and stood besides Kita.

"Stand back." Another cold glance, and the group followed her command. Twirling, she dropped, kicking out one leg against the bundle against Kita's chest, balancing herself on her right hand. The pack went flying, and Tessa pounced on Kita as the younger Breton began to struggle towards the now distant bundle. Straddling the younger girl on the waste, she gently cradled the the withering face.

"Kita." Her voice was soft, as antithetical to the tone of voice she had used on the blades as the sun and the moon. "Sister." But the younger Breton simply struggled on without seeming to notice the attempts at soothing her.

"By the Nine!" The priest had approached the bundle while Tessa attempted to calm her dark sister. "Such a thing is dangerous to even handle."

"Can you help her?" Tessa asked for her position on top of Kita without looking up.

"I can try." As suddenly as the struggles had begun, as suddenly they ceased, replaced by a low keening sound. Seeing the struggles ended, Tessa slipped from her sister, and gently gathered the girl into her arms. Finally she looked up into a pair of dazzling blue eyes.

"what did you do?"

"I placed the book into a temporal loop. It broke the effect on Kita for the time being. It won't give us much time, a few days at best, to break her from its influence."

"What happened?" A commanding voice cut through the hall, and Tessa turned to see an aging blade stride up to the group.

"We attempted to extract information from the shrine of Merhunes Dagon. Mankar Camoran escaped with the Amulet of Kings, but we retrieved the Mysterium Xarxes."

"And you are?" The words were innocuous, but the tone in which they were spoke brooked no arguments.

"Tessa de Bellerive, her sister."

"Martin?"

"She handled the book without appropriate precautions. It has tainted her and made her unresponsive. I believe I can heal her, but I will need time, Jauffre." While the two men spoke, Tessa turned back to Kita, wondering how the younger woman had so quickly wormed herself into her heart. She truly felt as if the slightly taller Breton were her blood sibling, and not a sister due to circumstances. Too many believed her traitor, it would devastate her to be believed betrayer by this sister as well.

Suddenly several hands reached down for Kita, forcing Tessa out of the way. Startled, she allowed them to gently pick up the slight woman, and stood to follow them.

"I have more questions for you."

"You may ask them once I am certain my sister is comfortably settled." Without another word, she followed the group heading towards the left of the hall. The hiss of several blades stopped her.

"I insist." Raising one eyebrow, eyes cold, she turned to face the Grandmaster of the Blades.

"You do not wish to threaten me." voices matching, the two stared at each other from a distance. A blade, Baurus she recognized, approached the grandmaster and spoke softly into the man's ear. A look of startlement crossed his face as his eyes never left her face.

"By the laws of our empire, I should have you executed." His tone was deadly soft. Tessa simply laughed.

"By the laws of the Empire under normal circumstances. I do not believe that the circumstances are anything but normal." With a graceful bow, she turned her back on the man, and headed towards where she had seen her sister taken. On silent feet, she crossed through what appeared to be a barracks, with several men and women laying on bedrolls, sleeping unperturbed by comings and goings of the room. At the end of the room one stair went up and one down. On instinct, she went up. At the end of a long hallway, she spotted an open door with several blades crowding into the entry way. Without a by your leave, she pushed into the room.

It was a large room. Sumptuously decorated. Rich tapestries hung from the walls and a soft plush carpet gave way underneath her feet as she approached the large double bed nestled underneath a canopy occupying the middle of the room. It was a room fit for royalty.

"how is she?" She asked as she looked at the priest sitting at Kita's side on the bed.

"Stable for now. Without the influence of the book she seems to simply sleep." Tessa nodded, and slipped off her boots, before crawling onto the other side of the bed, and settling cross-legged by her sister's side.

"You seem to require sleep Priest, I suggest you do so. I will watch her." Without another word, she turned, her eyes focusing onto her sister's heart beat. The beat of a heart meant more to an assassin than to most mortals. It was that which told them their mark yet lived, and it was that which acted as a physical symbol of the wanning of a life. The life of an assassin revolved around the heart beat of others, of those they were stalking as prey.

The heartbeat of a family member was infinitely more precious, since an assassin was fully aware of how simple it would be to snap the thread causing the heart to beat softly. If there was one thing she learned from Vicente, then it was the meaning of the beat of the heart. She didn't even want to imagine what it would be like to hear it, instead of just seeing it with the help of a life detect. Sometimes she wondered if it was that which caused vampires to grow mad and beast-like.

Throughout the night, she watched. Waiting for a tell-tale sign of the strong beat she knew well. Throughout the night, she reached out one hand when pale features twisted into pain at the dreaming void filling her sister's mind. Throughout the night, she wondered if she would ever be accepted back into her family.

When morning came, a trail of bloody tears stained her cheeks, one hand gently holding Kita's. The door slipped open on almost silent hinges behind her, and she heard the soft, muffled steps of the priest as she entered the room.

"How is she?"

"Her heart is a bit stronger this morning." She said softly after a moment of contemplation. "But her sleep was greatly disturbed by dreams."

The steps moved around the room behind her, until finally he appeared in her field of vision. He seemed to hesitate, reaching out once, his hand stopping, then dropping back to her side.

"You are of the Dark Brotherhood?" Something in his voice made her look up.

"banished for crimes against the Brotherhood." Martin nodded as she focused her eyes back onto the woman by whose side she had sat almost still as a statue.

"you should rest. I will watch her now." But Tessa shook her head, and continued her vigil by Kita's side. It was all the family she had left. She couldn't even begin to hope that the letter had been received and understood. If it hadn't, then she had no hope of winning. The brotherhood would be saved, but she herself damned.

~V~

"Your kind is not normally welcomed here." The gruff voice made Tessa smile a she stood under the newly risen moon, looking out over Bruma, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. Martin had finally convinced her to leave her sister's side. She could not sleep.

"You have made an exception before." Her voice did not carry above a whisper, but it was just sufficient for Jauffre to hear.

"Again and again, she has risked her life to help us. Time will tell if our trust was misplaced, but I suspect not." A hollow laugh escaped Tessa at these words, and she turned to face the Blade.

"You know _nothing_ of the danger she has placed herself in by helping you as she has." She almost spit the words at him. Anger gnawing at her heart at the man's ignorance.

"What do you mean?"

"The master we pledged to serve accepts but one oath. Any other is seen as betrayal, no matter the circumstances, except it brings profit to the Brotherhood. It is only a matter of time until Kita's life is forfeit."

"I... was not aware of that." Smiling sadly, Tessa turned back to the moonlit vista at her feet.

"Protect her." she whispered after a moment of silence. "already too many lie dead." A warm hand settled onto her shoulder they continued gazing out at the night.

~V~

"I leave tonight. I wouldn't want my hunters to catch up with me here. The result would be bloody to say the least."

"Hunters?" Tessa sat in the great hall besides a still weak Kita, facing Martin. The priest look at her puzzled as they lingered over the remains of their evening meal. It had taken three days to break Kita from the effects of the book, and now that she was well enough that Tessa was reassured she would live, it was becoming too dangerous for her to remain by the younger woman's side.

"I have been branded outlaw by the Brotherhood. By the laws which govern us, Kita should have killed me, not asked me for help."

"It is an unforgiving law." Jauffre spoke from behind her, before he settled down besides Martin. In the three days Tessa had been amongst the blades, he had begrudgingly accepted her amongst them. She suspected that there was a measure of respect held for her, but that he would never admit it to her. It would not do to openly accept an assassin. Kita did not seem to count as one of them.

"We are an unforgiving family."

"What of Kita?" Martin's voice seemed troubled as he looked at Kita.

Rising, Tessa smiled sadly. "She must make a choice." With a nod, she walked out of the hall and down the never ending stairs to where her mount waited for her. Moments later she passed under the high arch of the door without so much as a glance back. Kita was safe for the moment.

"How long have you waited?" She had passed a high standing rune stone at a slow pace, waiting for a mounted figure to catch up with her. Only a low laugh answered her as they steered their mounts towards little used back roads to by pass Bruma and the guards.

**Author's Notes**: Woot! That was a long chapter. =) Or rather... it's normal length for me. =)

Cheers

Canna


	11. Chapter 10

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Author's Note:** As promised, a new chapter. =) Somewhat shorter than my usual, but it was that or put it off for another week. My muse seems to be deserting me somewhat just now.

**Chapter 10**

A soft wind blew down from the mountains and dawn's first rays began creeping over the horizon as the pair approached a worn cavern door. Tessa dismounted, her black cloak snagging on a skull decorated pike driven into the ground. With a muffled curse and a ripping sound, the cloak tugged free.

"This looks like a likely place."

"After we clean it out." With a grin, Tessa slipped her ring of Crawling onto her finger and readied her bow.

"Ladies first." A wide, toothy grin met her shake of the head, and her companion crept into the cave first. The few bandits who had made it their home were soon taken care off, and the bedrolls claimed as their own spread out around a happily crackling fire.

"I had not... expected that you would understand my message so quickly, Vee." She spoke after an uncomfortable silence had fallen between them.

"I didn't." Confused, Tessa looked at the vampire.

"Then why...?" Her voice trailed off as he raised a hand asking for silence.

"I came because I once knew you and because Lucien seemed to believe that he understood. He would not have sent me otherwise." Tessa nodded, leaning back on her elbows, her head dropping back to gaze up at the shadows dancing on the cave's ceiling.

"I guess..." her voice was tentative and uncertain as she slowly raised her head again to look at him, her eyes distant, unfocused, "I should tell you what happened in these years I was gone."

"I am curious." A smile curved Tessa's lips upwards. Vicente's face seemed as controlled an unperturbed as always. Only a gleam in the back of his eyes showed any of what he was feeling. She dared not interpret what she saw. 53 years was a long time, and people changed over time.

"As far as I know, I was only gone for 10 years, Vee. I was only conscious for that amount of time..." This time she was certain what it was she divined in his eyes: surprise. "I believe you remember the day I left?" He nodded. "That day I had received a message from the Listener herself, summoning me for a special contract. It seems I had attracted attention with my way of doing things. Or perhaps, she had decided to hate me. Either way, I wish i could have refused the mission..."

~V~

The day was wet and miserable, not unlike the day I left Leyawiin two years back. Unlike that day, I wasn't running and it wasn't the beginning of a new life. Like that day, my destination was Bravil. I reached the city with the gathering gloom – rather a slight darkening of an already dark day – and wished I could just move on as I had done that day at the beginning of my new life. Bravil was still a despicable town, and I did not relish entering it. After I dropped my horse at the stable, I stopped at the hanging bridge leading into the city, a scowl on my face as water dripped onto my face harder than before. I think the guards interpreted my grim smile as a result of having to travel on such a horrible day and not my necessary presence in this cesspool of a city and the upcoming interview. I'd never met the Listener, didn't even know what she looked like. Her reputation preceded her.

I digress.

Following the directions given in the missive I had received, I proceeded directly to the Listener's house. The robes I wore, patched and faded yellow with a cloak half hiding it in no better state, marked me as a down on her luck traveling mage. Underneath the ill fitting robes, larger than necessary, my shrouded armor clung to me like a second skin. Unless I was sleeping in the Sanctuary, I never removed the magicked leather armor. That's the reason I chose the persona of a mage down on her luck, it allowed me to wear robes which hid any sign of the armor. That and I could wear my standard yellow satin band braided into the tip of my mundane black hair.

I was expecting a cold woman, when I knocked on the door to the small hut facing the statue of the Lucky Lady. The door opened to reveal a matronly woman in her forties with a pleasant smile. A local who happened to pass called out greetings and they were returned with the courtesy of a generous widow who sought to make the most of her meager means. I should have remembered that assassins always hid their true heart. We wouldn't be capable of moving within society. Our hearts are black and withered things with little warmth for our fellow humans. Relationships only work when with another with a heart such as ours.

The moment the door had shut, the kindness seemed to drip off the Listener's countenance as water slipped from a mirror. By the time the door was fully closed, and the woman's green eyes had settled onto me, there was nothing left of kindness or gentleness.

"Sit." The voice fit the person now standing before me. The clothes remained the same, but her face seemed to become more angular as muscles tightened and the green eyes green narrower. This was the face of a woman, who had gone over many a body to reach her position, and regretted not one. In silence, I did as ordered, my own features dropping the good natured cast belonging to my persona, adopting the blandness of an unwritten sheet of parchment.

"I was against your nomination for this mission. Your handling of the cultist fiasco was not acceptable and only your status as Speaker Valtieri's favorite spared you from serious repercussions." The weeks of simple stab and run missions had been dreadful enough to endure, I would hate to know what her idea of suitable punishment would have looked like. "Our Unholy Matron herself has chosen you, but I would rather see you dead than to send you on this mission."

Again, I did not speak, simply inclining my head somewhat in acknowledgment of the facts.

"You will go to Anvil, and book passage to Morrowind on the first possible ship. An emissary from the Morag Tong will receive you at Ebonheart." An odd taste filled my mouth, and I did not like the idea of serving as lackey to the Morag Tong. As she pulled a parchment from a pile near her side, I bit my tongue to prevent my from say anything which might aggravate my situation in her eyes. Unceremoniously, she dropped the parchment onto my lap, and I could see that it was covered, front and back, with her neat, small, and annoyingly perfect scrawl. "The emissary will provide more detailed instructions." After a quick glance at the writing, I nodded, and stood, having understood the silent dismissal for what it was.

"And Tessa..." The voice was so low, I almost didn't hear it, my hand already on the door. I turned back to face her. "Screw this up, and your life will be forfeit, regardless of what our Unholy Matron says."

"I understand Listener." It was then I decided that the Listener hated me. Why, I'm not quite certain, and I will now never know as she as long ago passed into the void.

Now, more than ever, I was glad of my weak skills in Mysticism magicks. I might not be able to move a person through space, but a letter way by no means out of the reach of my abilities. I did not tarry in Bravil, choosing instead to back track to the Inn of Ill Omens, hastily scribbling a note to send you while on horse back. I suspect the Listener, while not explicitly forbidding any contact from me to you, would not be pleased if I were to make the detour to Cheydinhal and speak to you in person. I was already on her shit list, I wasn't about to aggravate my case. But no where in any of what she had said or given me to read was it mentioned that I wouldn't be allowed to contact you at all, and she is fully aware of my ability to move letters through space, I've sent enough of them to her house for you that she should know.

When I reached Anvil three days later, I found Kat waiting for me.

"I wasn't aware you had duties here, sister." My words were neutral, but I could not hide my relief at seeing her. Now I would at least be able to leave more detailed news to be taken to you.

"He sent me to assist you."

"Wh..what?" I'm pretty sure my eyes resembled a pair of watermelons glued to my face. Kat's laugh ran down my back like warm sand. Two years ago, the sound would have sent me scurrying for cover, now it was a sound I was glad to hear.

"Where you are concerned, our Listener does not think clearly. One of her favorites was seriously wounded during that cultist raid."

"she's going to blame me for that until I die, even though it was that Fetcher's fault."

"Which is why our Spearker commanded me to assist you."

"I don't remember providing many details as to my mission, only that I would be taking a ship from here."

"He did not like the sound of it." We paced along the Anvil docks towards the tavern in search of an informant. A beggar sat on the ground near the entrance, and we stopped once we drew even with him.

"A coin for the infirm?" His voice resembled nails dragged too often over a smooth surface. I withdrew a 10 gold piece and dropped it into his waiting hands.

"I need some information." I spoke softly, kneeling down to be at eye levels.

"Anything my lady." his eyes sparkled as the coin disappeared into an inner pocket."

"I seek a ship leaving for Morrowind." For a moment the beggar seemed confused. There were any number of ships leaving from Anvil, and such information was readily available for free.

"The kind of ship we seek," Kat added, "should be able to guarantee our safe arrival in Ebonheart."

"Ah! And the guards should not hear of your arrival either, eh?" A light glinted in his eyes which I understood all too well.

"There are 9 more such as that one" I said pointing to his pocket where he had stoved away the gold piece," if you can help us." He scrambled up with a vitality his former position seemed to make impossible.

"Wait for me in the shade of the old oak behind the statue of Our Lady. I will need but an hour." He scampered away, the promise of an easily earned 100gp ringing in his mind like the promise of a paradise on Tamriel.

"Where you not told to take the first available ship?" Kat asked amused.

"Well, yes. But I'm not about to trust our Listener. She doesn't exactly like me, and arriving in Morag Tong turf on an official ship seems a bit idiotic to me." With a grin, she pointed back the way we'd come to wait at the appointed place. The beggar was true to his word, and greedily collected his pay after introducing us to the captain of a ship leaving with the morning tide.

"I don't normally take passengers."

"We don't normally travel to Morrowind."

"But we are in the habit of needing to avoid the oh so efficient law enforcement officers." All three of us grinned at Kat's words. Not long after we boarded a small row boat, a shot was down the coast, out of sight of the guards' patrol routes. A half an hour of steady rowing brought us to an unnamed ship. The journey to Ebonheart would take several weeks, and neither Kat nor I shied from helping where ever we could.

~N~

"Looking back, I wish the ship had never arrived in Ebonheart." Tessa lay curled with her head on Vicente's lap, his hand running through her tangled hair.

"I don't remember you as prone to wistful thinking and regrets."

"Much has changed." Vicente's hand slipped lower, resting against her throat. Underneath his hand he could feel the rapid beat of her heart and the shallow breathing.

"Vee?"

"Speak to me Tessa." His hand tightened on her throat, his fingers pressing against her windpipe, causing her breath to come in short gasps. For a moment he watched as light fled her eyes. Yet she accepted the pressure without struggling. He could extinguish her life, and she would not even scream, even as her last breath fled her.

He finally lessened the pressure on her and watched as she struggled to breath normally. With the patience of the undead, he waited for her to regain her composure, stroking her hair softly the entire time.

"Four more are to die." The rasp of her voice barley reached his ears."

"By your hand?" His hand moved back down to her throat, his face emotionless, but his eyes glowing with pain and fury.

"The lives are not mine to take I am but the harbinger."


	12. Chapter 11

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Author's Note:** *ducks in slowly* erm… yes I am alive. And horribly sorry that it took me *glances at the last time updated* forever and most of the day to finally update this. I promise to try and finish this before the year is over.

**Chapter 11**

Shadows danced on the walls as the fire flickered with a life of its own. Tessa lay curled with her head on Vicente's lap eyes closed and breath even. Her sleep was untroubled as he ran a hand over her black hair, smoothing it back from her temples and forehead in an oddly gentle gesture. A bruise slowly formed on her throat, a reminder of his earlier anger. It had been a long time since he'd known someone to make him lose control quite like that. For centuries he had struggled to keep the inner demon under control. Perhaps he had been a fool to open his mind to her. To permit her such access to his inner most self. Yet he'd been helpless to stop it. Already before her actions to save him, so long ago, she had wormed her way past his defenses. And now, with their blood linked, no matter how deep seated his anger, he could not permanently harm her. Sometimes he doubted she fully understood the depth of that accidental link.

"Vee?" Her eyes had fluttered open, finally having returned to consciousness.

"mmmm?" He continued to gently stroke her hair, as her mundane brown eyes stared unfocused on the flickering flames.

"Am I insane?" He chuckled at her question.

"My dear, we are all of us insane." A corner of her lips quirked up at his words, and finally she shifted her head enough to glance up at him without dislodging his hand from its place.

"But am I more so than others?"

"Perhaps."

"Humans are not meant to live such long lives." A troubled look passed over her face as she recalled something in the past.

"You are not yet so old."

"Perhaps." She used his own answer back at him.

"What happened in Morrowind?" He finally asked. The thought had been burning in his mind since the day she and Kat had left, never to return. With a twisted smile, she burrowed her head deeper into his lap.

"Not what the Listener had planned." Again his hand slipped to her throat, gently caressing the finger shaped bruise growing darker with every passing moment. Her pulse jumped in her throat and he could not be certain whether it was fear or something else. With her, he was no longer so certain.

"The ship never made it to Ebonheart. We were boarded not a week into our journey. Kat fought like a wild cat, but in the end, her blood soaked the planks as the soldiers dumped her over the railing. I remember trying to move, but my body lay paralyzed amongst the deep red of blood. I wondered if her soul would find peace in the Void." Her voice trailed off as she thought of the Khajiit female. After so much scorn and a grudgingly given respect, the woman had died to protect not just her, but her mission. A mission she had failed at.

"She had no peace of soul in life, perhaps our Dread Father found some place where she will find such in the Void."

"Perhaps. I remember very little after that. I woke up in a prison, surrounded by dank stone and the smell of rotting humanity. I lived because they thought me simply another pirate. I suspect that, had they known my Family, I would not be breathing now."

"You do not need to breath to live." Her chuckles sounded, if not cheerful, at least no longer hollow.

"By my count, I spent about 9 years in that Sithis forsaken place. Then, one day they came and dragged me from my cell. I woke up on a ship bound for Morrowind a prisoner no more."

"How?"

"The Emperor himself signed my release. They needed me as an errand girl for some half-baked crazy prophecy."

"44 years ago?" Vicente contemplated her putting together what he knew of events 44 years ago in Morrowind, and the woman who lay at his mercy even now.

"I guess. I lost track of time it seems."

"You are the Nerevarine?"

"You could call it that." She winced slightly at the bitterness in her tone. She hated prophecies.

"Yet the prophecy states that the Nerevarine is immune to disease." She had nearly died on her first mission after her return, due to a simple infection.

"Prophecy and reality are two things. I'm immune to corpus disease and several of the nastier diseases. But I'm still prone to a simple cold. Or rather, I'm immune to those diseases which do not change over time. Had I had that infection 44 years ago, I suspect I wouldn't have noticed it. Now, now my body needs to relearn how to deal with such pesky things."

"Ah yes, diseases change over time. They keep their names, but somehow alter some of the minor properties."

"Hence making the need to recreate the cure disease spells periodically. Good for business, bad for the supposedly immune."

"Will you age?" The question, so softly spoken, took her off-guard. There was a yearning in it, she had never heard in the Vampire's voice – a yearning for a permanent companion.

~V~

I was just about fed up with Prophecies, self-proclaimed gods and meddling priests. I'm fed up with running from one end of this Sithis-forsaken island to the next. And I'm fed up with being under the Blade's watchful eyes. As long as they think I need to complete this little hero quest of theirs, I'm never going to be able to go back home.

_Home_. My heart aches at the thought of Vicente and the others. Will any of them still be alive? Assassins have a rather high mortality rate, but it doesn't stop me from hoping. It's been almost 10 years, at least Vicente is bound to still be alive. Or undead for that matter. I stop trudging up the sheer endless steps up of Vivec's Palace, and turn around to stare back at the city, if city it can be called. She'd crawled up and down most of the gigantic buildings looking for one thing or another and never had she considered it a truly living city. It seemed too empty. Filled with people as it was, it seemed to have no life on the outside. And within, it was too crowded, too loud and too foul smelling to be a living place. The stench of so many sucked the life right out of the place. Even the severs were more pleasant. At least you didn't bump into the unwashed scum of society down there. This place would never be home.

With a sigh, I turn back towards the Palace and continue my trek upwards. I'm halfway to the top and counting. Vivec had better have some answers for me. Azura had had none for me. Or none I would care to hear.

I slam the door open, earning a glare from the two pilgrims bowing their heads in prayer. I honestly don't care anymore.

"Vivec" I feel a twisted satisfaction at seeing the short moment of surprise on the semi-god's face.

"Nerevar, you have returned." I growl as I pace closer, still aware of the open door and the wide eyed stares of the two pilgrims.

"My name is Tessa de Bellerive." I enunciate each word very carefully. Causing him to sigh as he catches sight of my angry expression. With a wave of his hand, the door slams close again, leaving the shocked pilgrims to their own devices.

"Still you deny your true heritage. But that was to be expected. There is a darkness in your soul I never could reconcile with my brother." The laugh echoing through the room is hollow, and for a moment I'm startled to realize that it's mine.

"What do you expect?" I speak quietly, as if the realization of how hollow I had become was too much to bear, and perhaps it was, but I didn't want to dwell on that. "I had everything taken from me. There was darkness in me before, but I was never hollow. All that's left of me is a shell of the woman who loved and laughed with her Family. They will not know me when I return. I will have no place amongst them. I'm not a sparkling hero to be paraded around, but because of my fame, my family will reject me. An assassin cannot stand in the light of day. We are creatures of shadow and darkness. We live and breathe in a world which others would suffocate in. So, no. I will not accept this 'heritage', nor will I deny the darkness within me, for it is who I am."

"Yet you carry the soul of Nerevar."

"No. The soul is my own."

"In a way, both is true." All the while I had spoken, up until now, he had been sitting cross-legged, hovering over the ground. He lowered himself to stand facing me now, an oddly regretful expression in his silvery eyes. "While you carry the soul of Nerevar, without which you could never have succeeded in your quest, you also carry the mantel of your own soul. The essence of divinity could not have been born by a mortal soul alone."

"What do you mean?"

"Reincarnation is simply a way of stating things. A soul is not reborn, nor does it die. It is simply transferred to another sphere of existence and fades from this one. Some souls are so strong, that they keep a hold on this existence, and lodged themselves within a receptive soul. It is a strong soul to withstand such. Most are fully destroyed and only the parasite soul attempting to cling to this plane of existence remains. In your case, your soul was strong enough to fight back and reach some sort of balance.

"I have…" I can't finish that sentence, it's just too horrific to contemplate.

"Yes."

"Why?" I can feel a single tear run down my cheek and gently, almost as a lover would, Vivec reaches up and brushes it way with a single finger.

"I do not know." He carefully reaches forward and pulls me into a lose embrace. My humanity is crumbling around me and only a deity who is not stands there to comfort me.

"What will happen to me now?" I feel lost. Just moments before, I had been so certain of who I am. So sure in the knowledge that I was Tessa de Bellerive, and nothing more.

"You will age slower than a mere mortal, but you are not divinity. Nerevar's soul will attempt to cling to this plane as long as possible, attempting to overwhelm you should you falter in your stubbornness. Eventually, you will age and die and fade from this place, your soul seeking rest in which ever place it clings to." I smile softly at this, resting my head on his shoulder.

"The Void. Our Dread Father will call my soul to his side, where it belongs." That thought brings me comfort. I will be reunited with my Family in death, and have no fear of becoming a mere puppet to this foreign soul.

"A true child of the darkness. I begin to understand why you can live with the burden of a soul not your own." He gently releases me and pulls me towards a low bench towards the back of the room, urging me to sit down.

"Vivec?" I hesitate to ask, but I must know.

"Yes, Nerevarine." I almost growl at his choice of name, but keep my silence.

"I share a blood bond with one. He was always troubled by it, but would never tell me why. I cannot sense it, yet he assures me that it is part of me as much as it is part of him." He waits patiently for me to continue, probably suspecting my next words. "Was it my soul to bring it into being, or the parasite?" I swear a grin tugs at his lips at my choice of words, but he refrains from commenting.

"That I cannot say. Only time will tell. If it is Nerevar's soul, then your own will crumble much sooner, overpowered by the dual strain of a bond not its own and the claims of a soul other than itself. On the other hand, should it be your own, it will strengthen your ability to fight against the one you consider an intruder."

I nod, a tight knot of worry forming deep within my soul. I cannot sense the bond. What if it isn't my own? That thought shocks me more than anything. Vivec's hand settles on my shoulder as I stare into the golden ray of light casting the edge of the room in shadows. It is the shadows in which I feel comfortable. The shadows which are my home.

"I…" My words die on my lips as the door slams open to reveal a group of Ordinators. They step into the circle of light in the middle of the room, glaring into the shadows surrounding the semi-god and myself. Vivec stands and moves forward without touching the ground, an impressive sight to behold.

"What brings you to my sanctuary?" His voice is cold and soulless in a manner it had never been with me, even at the beginning when he probably considered me as no more than a nuisance to be dealt with.

"The woman is under arrest for crimes against the Faith. She is to be apprehended and taken for questioning before she is terminated." To rejoin the Void so soon, especially after everything I have learned seems to me a blessing.

"I'm afraid," Vivec speaks softly, so unlike the unapproachable Deity he pretends to be, "that I cannot allow that." The Ordinator steps back in surprise and with a single look of regret Vivec turns to me. The light of a powerful spell envelops me and all is light.

~V~

Tessa falls silent, uncertain of her next words. Would Vicente understand?

"Vee?" She finally breaks her silence, turning fully to lay on her back and gaze up at the vibrant red eyes of the Vampire still cradling her head.

"A divine soul yet a mortal body." He muses aloud, seeming lost in the possibilities of what Tessa was, his eyes unfocused. Again his hand finds her throat, caressing the still forming bruise.

"Is that why you betrayed us?" His eyes snap to focus on her own, a raging anger within their depths.

**Author's note**:

Several things I want to clarify:

1 I am aware that the events in Morrowind take place a few years before the events in Oblivion and not 44 years earlier. I wanted enough time to go by for most people to have forgotten the Nerevarine and the events surrounding her advent, to give Tessa the necessary anonymity again. She would never have been accepted back in the Brotherhood had the stigmata of being a very public persona known on sight by many still clung to her.

2 I assumed that diseases in the world of Tamriel act like our own homecooked ones. Meaning: they evolve and adapt with time, making spells and immunity useless after enough time passed. I assume that Restoration specialist spend time reworking the spells to remain effective, hence limiting the amount of people who can effectively cure diseases. This also means that Alchemist have to rethink their cures again and again and again. It makes it by far more interesting to actually invest the time to learn the craft, since it's assured that there will always be a need for a good Healer/Alchemist.

3 I didn't go into details of the Nerevarine's quest for one very good reason: If I start with that, chances are I NEVER finish this story. My original plan was to recount all of it, but considering how long it's taken me to actually pick this up again, I fear it might not be so wise to overstretch my planning into something unfeasible. I might make a 'spin-off' and go back to this at a later time. Or simply leave it up to my beloved reader's imagination.

Lastly. Thank you to Nightlain for prodding me into getting back to writing this. I might never have had it not been for her review/PMs.

The 'game time' action will pick up again in the next chapter... after Vee gets his pint of blood that is :p


	13. Chapter 12

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Author's Note:** Very short chapter this time. But it simply felt like a good place to stop and it means I've gotten once step closer to the ultimate goal… finishing the story :p And… I actually know how I'm going to move on. We've got a random powerful soul, a traitor, an incompetent leader, an irritated vampire, and a Daedric Lord to deal with. Let the games begin!

**Chapter 12**

"I…" Tessa looked away from his piercing red eyes. Finally, she turned back to face him. "No Vicente, that was not the reason."

"Then why?" With a tiered sigh, she closed her eyes.

"The Morag Tong was a means to an end. An opportunity to purge the Black Hand of its corruption." With careful movements, she sat up and faced the man she owed everything to, sitting crossed legged besides the fire he had built for her comfort. "They are all more interested with their own personal power than the power of the Brotherhood. They care only for their own glory instead of the glory of our Dread Father. The Listener sent me to Morrowind to die because I did not conform to her ideal. And now that useless twit has become Listener. Do they even know what they are doing? Do they even understand it? Only by purifying the Black Hand can we survive. It has become weak and corrupted and dangerously selfish in its pursuit of power."

"And so you thought to use our enemies for your own pursuit of power." There was a disappointment in his eyes she couldn't bear to see. Quietly she shook her head.

"No Vee. I don't expect to survive this. How could the Hand let me live after all I've done? And I will gladly bow my head and bare my neck to the killing blow, but first I must finish what I have begun." Resigned to his disappointment, she turned and faced the flickering fire. After what seemed like an eternity to her, she heard the low rustle of clothes and a cold hand settled on her shoulder.

"What was your plan?"

"What does it matter? It's all gone to pieces."

"There may be some salvaging it." Her head whipped around so quickly, Vicente thought she might just break it.

"Why?" There was shock in her eyes, echoed in her voice. Never had she imagined him willing to help.

"Because there is far more truth to your words than I ever thought possible." He ran his hand down her shoulder, down the length of her arm until it reached the tightly clenched hand, and tugged, pulling her to him. "I have known for some time that the Black Hand was faltering, but my faith lies in our Dark Mother. Her whispered words should have saved us all." Quietly he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. "But words falling on deaf eyes will never be heeded."

"I can't ask this of you, Vee. It will mean your doom as it means mine."

"My dearest," his voice held some measure of amusement as it dropped into an almost seductive register, "let that be my own worry. Now tell me."

For long moments, Tessa stared into the glowing red depth of the vampire's eyes.

"I need to know why Vee."

"There is a traitor in our midst, using the corruption of the Hand to destroy us all. The Brotherhood has given me a home when no other place would dare take me in. It has stood by me and given me a reason to live. I suspect they would have called for a Purification of the Cheydinhal sanctuary before long. And that would have meant the death of not only all our brothers and sisters, but of my hopes for our Family as well."

"And it is this traitor that shot my plans to pieces." Vee raised an eyebrow at her words, motioning for her to continue with a lazy wave of a hand. "I had originally planned to use my half welcome position to plant evidence that an Morag Tong agent had infiltrated the Brotherhood and was trying to destroy our leadership."

"What kind of evidence?"

"Lack of evidence is also evidence Vee. Isn't that what is causing Lucien so much trouble? _She_ said that I would only need to avoid having him incriminated and the pointing of fingers would begin. But with the traitor leaving evidence incriminating exactly our sanctuary…" She trailed off and left Vee to ponder her unspoken words.

"Very naïvely planned." He grimaced at her inelegant planning.

"I thought I'd only been gone for 10 years. I had not anticipated the depth of the change after 53 years." She grimaced at the defense. It sounded weak even to her own ears.

"Indeed." He nodded and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander. "We must find our traitor."

"How? You've not had any luck so far?" With a glimmer of glee, Vee opened his eyes again. Something dangerous burned in them.

"But I was chained to the rules of the Brotherhood."

"And not anymore?" Tessa looked at him, confusion shining in her eyes. There was something absolutely malicious burning in the vampire's eyes. Something that once again reminded her of the dangerous creature lurking beneath the gentility of her lover's mask. She had never been on the receiving end of his bestiality, even in those few moments he lost his grasp on humanity in her presence, always left her with enough blood to heal. The traitor would not be given such an easy death. Nor would his blood contaminate Vicente's own body. But lose it all he would.

"No, my dearest. Not anymore. By sending me to hunt you down, Lucien gave me free hand. If I need to make away with a traitor to do so, then I will do so."

"But you've already caught me…" The burning in Vicente's eyes grew more pronounced as he pounced forward, flattening her to the cavern floor. She lay immobilized at his mercy and could think only of the hard planes of his body above her.

"I've caught you, but not your plans." He leaned further down, his mouth running down her jaw line to the wildly beating pulse at her neck. "And I do not like to leave unfinished business behind."

"Your splitting hairs…_Vee_" She moaned his name loudly as his fangs sunk into the soft flesh of her throat. Without thought, she wrapped her legs around his waist, a willing prisoner to his thirst. It had been far too long since last he had taken her as he truly was: a beast in the guise of humanity.

~V~

"Lachance." Ungolim sneered the name as if it were a curse as the Speaker stepped into the Listener's inner sanctuary in the mer's home in Bravil.

"Ungolim." He answered with a flat tone, devoid of any of the rage he felt growing in his self.

"Any news of the renegade sister?" J'Ghasta interrupted the staring contest with a softly purred sigh. It was going to be a very long meeting.

"I have sent Valtieri after her," came the curt answer before the man folded himself into a chair.

"Didn't he recruit her into the Brotherhood? How do you know he won't betray us as well?" J'Ghasta sometimes wondered whether looks could kill, he had proof now that they couldn't. Lachance did not take kindly to having his assassins' honor questioned.

"He always finishes what he starts."

"Yes, but we know he cannot possibly be partial, not with their history."

"He has served the Brotherhood for 200 years. Do you doubt his loyalty?"

"I doubt his clear-headedness. Every man and mer is prone to weakness of the flesh."

"Just as I doubt your qualities as a Listener, Ungolim. Tell me, when did our Dark Mother last whisper into your soul? When did you last receive advice, or even contracts? It has not escaped my notice that there have been less and less contracts assigned. Or did you only forego giving my own Sanctuary such?" Lachance's taunting words had the desired effect. A dead silent fell over the group as the words sunk in.

"How dare you?" The Bosmer rose to his full height and attempted to dominate the man sitting in his chair as if at a Sunday afternoon tea party.

"Is it true?" The quietly asked question hushed him. He turned towards the Khajiit Speaker opening his mouth once, before thinking better of his words and closing it again. "Ungolim. Is. It. True?"

"The Night Mother has become unusually silent these past few months." He finally admitted. The woman, Tessa, be damned for having revealed that weakness.

"Then we are without guidance." The grim looks amused Lucien as he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled underneath his chin. With the Listener attempting to justify his position, and the squabbling bound to occur soon, Vicente and Tessa would have more time to find the traitor and proof of his treachery.

**Author's note**:

And no, I am not going to be writing detailed smut. I'm simply not good at it and it would turn out like something an overly hormonal teenager would try to write. So I leave it up to your imagination. But I suspect that Tessa likes it quite rough, judging from her reaction to a bit of blood sucking.


	14. Chapter 13

**Vampire's Kiss**

**Disclaimer: **No, I do not own Oblivion, its characters or places or ideas. Nor am I making a single Septim from this. Sniff

**Author's Note:** Thieves and blood and a shop keeper who might not survive the story. Enjoy!

**Chapter 13**

"So… what's the plan?" Vicente glanced at Tessa's shadow hidden face as she scanned the crowd on the Waterfront's broad walkway. Several new ships had just arrived, and the hustle and bustle of activity provided them with enough cover to slip into the upstairs rooms of an unused warehouse. It was early evening and the sun had just gone down, some of its debilitating rays still shivering over the water and distant hills.

"We wait." He could feel her stare on his face as he turned to once again watch the crowd below. He knew she craved to ask, could tell that the question burned her tongue as a hot coal placed on its moist, living surface. Finally, she nodded, and simple returned her gaze towards the boarded up window. "The time of shadows is not only the time of assassins."

A low chuckle told him she had finally understood, and now stilled in patience, she settled more fully besides him, allowing his arm to drag her closer to his side, her head resting on his shoulder. They would not move until the darkest hours of night had fallen and seek their prey in little visited places between the shacks and huts of the slums leaning against the great warehouses of the waterfront. They had no need for idle conversation as the shadows grew deeper and deeper along the walls and alleys, the crowds slowly turning from their pursuit to seek the relative shelter of their homes and beds. As the first sliver of Masser rose, the vampire finally roused himself to move. With a soft smile, he glanced at the still woman by his side. She had curled against him and succumbed to the sleep needed by mortals. It would be a long night yet.

"Tessa." He murmured as he ran a hand through the sleep tousled hair.

"mmm?" Vaguely, she fluttered her eyes open, smiling and stretching as from a good dream.

"It is time." She nodded and stood, stretching more fully, the beat of her heart falling into the rhythm of the waking, no longer claimed by sleep. She slipped her arms around him before he could turn towards their exit, and brushed a kiss over his cold lips. He quirked an eyebrow at her action, but refrained from commenting, motioning her forward with a half-smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

The streets were mostly empty. The hollow ring of the patrols' feet hitting the pavement, and the occasional pained moan from a beggar seeming at odds with the otherwise still night. They easily slipped from shadow to shadow, avoiding the slowly pacing figures, to reach a well hidden place between the high walls of the warehouses and the weather molded paneling of the waterfront hovels. A group of 4 stood under the uncertain light of rising Masser, conversing in low tones. The two Bosmer females and Redguard male had the looks of experienced thieves about them while the Argonian male seemed to play at being thieve.

The duo clung to the shadows and watched. Soon enough, the females and the Argonian left the area, the two women jogging with a set destination in mind while the Argonian seemed on his way to a short stroll along the beach. Once only the Redguard remained, they stepped from the shadows to face him.

"Who are you?" The man carefully placed his hand on his weapon, his glare apparent even in the weak light.

"Fellow inhabitants of the night." Tessa spoke softly, as if not wishing to startle him. "We come seeking information"

"Speak plainly woman." She laughed as softly as she had spoken, before lowering her hood, allowing the weak moonlight to highlight her features.

"We belong to the Brotherhood and seek an audience with your leader."

"Assassins?" The man spat the word as if it were highly distasteful.

"Yes." Vicente simply answered. "That and more."

"And what information could we possibly have which your kind would want?" The two assassins exchanged quick looks, before Tessa bowed her head to her fellow assassin.

"The kind not in your possession, Armand Christophe." Vicente's voice was even, almost emotionless as he spoke.

"And why should I help you then?"

"Why indeed." Silence fell between the three as they stared at one another. Both Tessa and Vicente allowed no impatience to cloud their faces. The thief could not know just how desperate they were for the information the guild might be able to provide. As for Christophe himself, he glared at the two, attempting to pierce through the shadows surrounding Vicente's face.

"What stops me from calling for my fellow thieves. The Waterfront belongs to us!" The thief finally declares.

"You would be dead before help reaches you, and we would be gone." Tessa nodded to her companion, before a small sigh escaped her lips.

"Tell your leader," Vicente finally spoke, "that we will meet him where he wants and on the terms he himself sets. We would be in his debt." He spoke the words as if in distaste, knowing he had very little choice. Neither he nor Tessa currently had access to the Brotherhood's extensive intelligence network, not without knowing how much of it had be corrupted by the traitor and the Morag Tong. The Thieves had a network second only to their own and in some cases, it was even superior. Without access to it, they might never find the traitor and clear Tessa's and, by extension, Lucien's name.

"And why should I pass your request on to him? Kill me and you'll never get what you want."

"We will complete one task of your naming." The Redguard threw back his head and laughed at the words.

"I don't need anyone killed." He spoke with a spiting sarcasm in his tone. "We are not murderers." He spat the final word as if it were something highly distasteful.

"My companion did not offer to murder someone for you. He offered to complete a task for you. Should you stipulate it, we shall even ensure that no blood is spilled, even if such a thing is contrary to our very natures." Tessa countered softly.

"There might be something you could do for me." He seized the two up, as if taking the measure of their worth. "And no blood is to be spilled. Do this, and I will arrange a meeting for you." Both assassins nodded at his words, waiting with barely contained impatience.

"What do you need of us?" A wide grin stretched the man's face, as if in glee at the prospect of getting rid of the two so easily.

"Councilor Ocato has recently acquired a rather unique amulet. It is of unusual beauty and supposedly capable of holding an enchantment more powerful than most other high quality items. We have received a request to retrieve exactly that amulet." The look in the thief's eyes dared them to turn him down.

"And I suspect, the Councilor never takes this amulet off?"

"You suspect quite correctly." Without another word, the two assassins turned to leave. It would do no good to argue. "Don't bother returning without the amulet." Tessa was certain she could hear Vicente's teeth grind as they faded back into the shadows. The thief was insufferable, but neither would give the man the satisfaction of knowing this.

"We can't kill Ocato." Tessa's tone of voice was rather despondent, as if dreading having to complete a task without bloodshed.

"He only specified it must be bloodless, not deathless." Tessa snorted in answer to Vicente's calmly stated words. While true, they both knew that if anything happened to the man, then there would be no meeting, and their time was running out.

"If I remember correctly from my time shadowing the Casemoore's, then Ocato goes to the Temple every evening around dusk."

"Heavily guarded?"

"Heavily guarded." Tessa confirmed. She had seen the man strut towards the main door of the Temple of the One with the confidence only a man with power could hold. There was no deny that he wielded power. With no Emperor enthroned, he quasi ruled the Empire. Tessa suspected he wouldn't appreciate the appearance of a bastard son of the late Emperor Uriel.

"We'll need some kind of diversion."

"An Oblivion gate would do quite nicely."

"Perhaps, but it is a bit of an overkill, and I don't relish the fire." They had reached the tunnel up into the city proper by now, slipping in after a group of guards headed up to their barracks at the end of a patrol. By the time they reached the Temple District, Secundus had risen, casting their surroundings into a silvery white light. The duo stopped in the awing of a house, within sight of the temple's main entrance. "Does he always use the same path?"

"The path yes, the time varies to within plus/minus one hour, if I remember correctly." Without further prompting, they headed towards the Palace along the path the High Chancellor took for his evening devotions. The path was short, and far too open for an attempt at theft. There was no dark alley, no shadowed corner from which to launch an attack on the man.

"What does he do inside the Temple?" Vicente asked as she walked on towards the gate again. Tessa stopped in her tracks at his question.

"You know what? I honestly don't know." She shook her head in frustration as she tried to conjure up an image of what the man might have been doing in the Temple every evening.

"Then, you will have to find out tomorrow." His eyes scanned her from top to toes, tsking disapprovingly. "But first, you'll have to go shopping. This outfit won't do." With low chuckle at her annoyed expression, he slipped her arm around his, and tugged her towards the Market District. Arm in arm, they walked through the night, enjoying the cool touch of the double moons hanging high up in the sky.

~V~

The small bell above the door chimed, and the Altmeri woman bending over the counter, examining the seams of a silvery colored shirt looked up in slight irritation at the intrusion not minutes after she had opened the shop. That irritation grew as she spotted her newest customer's plain clothing and even plainer face.

"I am in need of clothing." The woman spoke softly, looking around the displayed clothing, not bothering to look at the merchant. Straightening to her full height, Palonirya glared at the woman who was so obviously out of place in her exclusive shop.

"Anyone can wear clothes. But the RIGHT clothes? That is not so easy. Go to any castle. They wear Palonirya's designs or they're nobody." The woman raised an eyebrow at her before turning back to an exquisite afternoon dress in a lovely shade of persimmon.

"I am aware of that," she replied softly, "or I would not be here. My luggage was lost during the journey to the city. I can't possibly show my face in public dressed in such a manner? I am expected at the Temple tonight, and anything less than perfect simply will not do." Palonirya straightened herself at those words. It seemed that the woman was a customer and not simply a peasant who had lost her way into a fashionable shop.

"I hope you did not lose your gold as well. My creations are not without their price." Instead of answering, the woman simply removed a large pouch from her waist and threw it on the counter; the sound of gold clinking within music to Palonirya's ears. "Well then, I must apologize for my behavior. You can never be too careful."

"I fully understand." The black haired woman smiled softly and finally settled her attention fully on the clothe merchant. "Do you perhaps have an idea on what might suit me. I always have trouble finding appropriate colors and styles and so very few have the knack for it."

"Indeed. The pallor of your complexion and the mundane shade of your black hair does cause some trouble. But together with your brown eyes, any shade of green or blue will be stunning. I would keep my fingers from the warmer colors as they will give your complexion an unflattering red hue. For the Temple I would suggest a light brocade with a Breton lace trim." The master tailor slowly paced around her customer, seizing the woman up.

"This way please." With a wave of her hand, the customer was directed into the back room. If the woman was to attend the ceremony at the Temple tonight, then Ocato would be present. And where the High Chancellor was present, high born ladies were never far. It was the occasion to try one of her new designs, and as the woman was rather slim and petite, it would not be a problem to adapt one of her new dresses to fit her like a glove.

An hour later, the woman left again, dressed in clothes more appropriate for her station and with directions to _the _best lodgings in the city. The dress would be delivered promptly at four, giving her another two hours to get ready. Palonirya herself would accompany the delivery to insure that everything was _exactly _as it should be. She couldn't wait to hear the reactions the next morning. The shop will be positively overflowing.

~V~

Vicente looked up from his place in a shadowed corner as the door slammed open and closed again. Tessa stalked in carrying a heavy bag with her traveling clothes, wearing a stunning combination of new clothes. Tight black pants with a silvery blue over dress reaching to her knees and slit up the side to her hips. Soft looking black boots and a silver chain completed the outfit.

"You seem to have enjoyed your shopping." He stated mildly, amused at the disgust on her face.

"What I would enjoy is driving a blade through that woman's heart. She's insufferable." He lazily waved with one hand to approach him, staring hungrily at her exposed throat as she slowly stepped closer.

"Perhaps once we no longer need her." He grabbed her hand when she was close enough, and pulled her down onto his lap, locking his arms around her. He dropped his mouth to her throat and watched with satisfaction as she tilted her head backwards to give him better access. He kissed the pale flesh softly over the point where he pulse was steadily growing more uncontrolled. A soft shudder moved through her body as he grazed his sharp canines over the area. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she lowered her head and sought his lips for a kiss, drawing him away from the so very tempting flesh at her throat. She slipped her legs on either side of him and pushed herself closer, her hands sliding up until finally they held his face cradled between them. His own arms tightened around her until his embrace was just shy of painful. When they finally broke the kiss, a look of regret flashed in her eyes.

"You can't. Not now." He chuckled softly, before drawing her down to rest her head against his shoulder.

"I know. Once we have what we need from Ocato and the Thieves Guild, there'll be no stopping me." She shuddered slightly at the dark promise in his voice and closed her eyes to get a grip on herself again. Vicente's blood lust always left her shattered in pleasure, but weak for days afterwards. It had only grown worse since her return. In a candid moment, he had told her that her blood tasted like a rich red wine, meant to be enjoyed sip by sip. Yet give a parched man that same drink and he will drown it without thought. He could not stop himself once he tasted her. Perhaps, once the Black Hand passed its judgment and declared that only her death would compensate for her deeds, she could ask them to allow her death to come at his hands. Allow him to drain her dry to the last drop. That thought left her feeling by far too aroused for her own good.

**Author's note**:

Just what are they planning for poor poor poor Ocato? And will they manage to finish the task for the thieves, meet with the Gray Fox and get the information they need before the Black Hand catches up with them?


End file.
